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golden-cherry · 10 months

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deal - cl16 (8/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: It's always nice meeting new people. Especially British ones.

Warnings: fluff, flirting, one swear word, social media aspect

Word Count: 3.3k

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A/N: this chapter is for everyone who send me kind words when I was feeling down. even tho I don't answer every single message, I read everything you send me. I love you.

You look desperately at the piece of paper in your hand.

You have the chicken breast, the avocado and the kale and garlic. According to the signs in the shop, two aisles down are the jars of sun-dried tomatoes that you also need. But where the heck are the sesame seeds and chilli flakes?

You rub your forehead with the back of your hand.

For twenty minutes you have been walking through the supermarket, which is so much bigger than the one around the corner from you. Ten minutes ago you put the chicken in the shopping basket, which is hanging down on your elbow. And since then you have been wandering the aisles with little success, trying to find the rest that Charles scribbled on the piece of paper.

When you left the bedroom this morning, your roommate had already disappeared. He had stowed his sleeping things in the wardrobe and tidied up the living room. Even the dishes had disappeared from the sink. Apparently he got up very early.

After drinking a glass of orange juice, you found the note on the kitchen table that Charles had left there.

"Bonjour,

Je suis à la salle de sport ce matin. I'm at the gym this morning.

Pourriez-vous acheter ces choses pour le déjeuner ? Could you please buy these things for lunch?

Merci, mon ami.

Charles

PS.: Mes amis et moi sortons ce soir et j'aimerais que tu viennes avec moi. My friends and I are going out tonight and I would like you to come along".

Next to it was another piece of paper with the shopping list for the bowl his nutritionist had picked out for him. Judging by the ingredients, Charles has good taste and for a moment you had considered buying a double portion - one for him and one for you - but the toast lying in your kitchen is about to go bad and you are reluctant to throw it away. Besides, no food in the world can beat a good sandwich.

But reading the list, you also realise that the small supermarket around the corner would not be enough to get everything.

The employee you asked a few minutes ago gave you a rough direction where you could find the sesame seeds, but he disappeared so quickly that you couldn't follow up. And since then you've been standing in a corridor that looks like you might find them here. But you've read through every label on every shelf, and although your French has improved - and you have a translator app on your phone - none of them sounded remotely like sesame or seeds.

"A pretty lady wasn't on my shopping list today, but I can be spontaneous," you hear someone with a British accent say behind you.

As you turn around, a young man is standing in front of you. He is a little taller than you and wears a black hoodie with his hands in his pockets and a black cap on his head. Although it is winter, his skin is tanned, and as he grins broadly, you see a small gap between his white front teeth.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to gauge whether he is really serious, and glance briefly at your shopping list before turning to face him fully. "An overeager man is not on mine either. And unfortunately, since I have to stick to my budget, I can't be quite as spontaneous."

His grin widens even more. "So the pick-up line was that lousy?"

His smile is so honest and friendly it's infectious. "Terrible."

The young man presses his tongue into his cheek before pulling his hand out of his jumper pocket to hold it out to you. "Lando. Nice to meet you."

As you place your hand in his, you feel the warmth of his skin. "Y/N."

Before you can respond, Lando snatches the piece of paper in your hand. His eyes flicker over the ingredients on it and then over the contents of your shopping basket. "You've been standing here for ten minutes. Do you need any help?"

You narrow your eyes and try to reach for the list in his big hands, but he is quicker. He pulls his hand away. "Have you been watching me? See if the note says stalker."

He pretends to go through the ingredients again, but his gaze lingers on you again after a few moments. "Stalker it doesn't say, but helpful stranger it does." He holds the note up to your nose. "Right under chicken breast. See. Right there. In invisible ink."

You push your lower lip forward and consider whether you should accept his help. The only thing against it is the fact that you can usually help yourself. But since he has already noticed how helplessly you search for the missing groceries, the argument is not exactly convincing.

"Alright." You extend your arm and wave it in a semicircle in front of you. "Show me the way."

Lando leads the way as you follow him through the shop. Despite his jumper, you can see that his cross is relatively wide. Not as wide as Charles, but still enough to be noticeable.

"You don't seem to be from around here, do you?" asks Lando as you walk past the cheese shelf. He looks down at you.

"I've actually lived here for months, but I've never been to this supermarket," you admit, shrugging. "The stuff on the list isn't for me, it's for my roommate. I'm not much of a bowl fan."

The helpful stranger stops abruptly in front of a shelf, causing you to bump lightly into him. You can still feel the hard muscles through the many layers of clothing. "What are you more into?" When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "Food-wise, I mean."

"Culinarily, I'm afraid I've stayed at McDonalds level. Or frozen pizza." As Lando grins, you lightly punch his arm. "I know, I know. Like a kid."

He reaches out and takes a packet from the shelf, and as he puts it in the basket, you see that it's sesame seeds. He then takes the basket from your hand. "So I don't need to take you to a super fancy, expensive restaurant? You'd be happy with take-out as well?" He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

Apparently he can't help it. But you find his boyish charm not annoying, rather amusing.

You raise your hand and poke your index finger against his chest. "You could buy me a can of soup, too, and I'd be blown away."

Lando is too surprised to retort, so he lowers his eyes to the list in his hand. You can still see the blush that comes to his face. He clears his throat. "Chilli flakes should be here somewhere too. Ah, there. Right behind you." He leans forward a little and reaches past you. As you inhale, you can smell his perfume.

"Thanks for your help, Lando," you say as you stand together at the checkout a little later, putting your purchase into a bag. "I don't know what I would have done without you." Your smile is genuine and you're glad he returns it. If it hadn't been for him, you'd almost certainly still be standing here tomorrow looking for the ingredients.

"I'm glad I could help." As you take your groceries from him, he shoulders the bag and shakes his head. "Would it be weird if I asked you if I could walk you home?"

"It would." You've both known each other for a few minutes and for sure it's unwise for a young stranger to find out where you live. Yet something about him makes you trust him. As Lando's mouth curls into a thin line, you smile kindly at him. "But weird is okay."

His expression brightens instantly. "Great. Show me the way. I'll follow you."

The walk home takes thirty minutes, but it feels much shorter with Lando by your side. He's two years older than you and incredibly funny, which is why your stomach starts to hurt from laughing at some point. He talks about what it was like growing up in England and that although he has his permanent home here in Monaco, he still works there.

"So you're always flying back and forth? Isn't that very tiring?" you ask him. The house where your home is located comes into your field of vision. In a moment you are about to say goodbye and somehow you have a feeling that he would make an attempt to ask for your number.

"It's very exhausting," he confesses, but shrugs. "But you know yourself what it's like to live here. Monaco is beautiful and I love it. Besides, many of my friends live here. It's definitely worth the stress for me."

You stop at the front door and Lando's smile disappears from his face as he realises that your time - for now - is up. He hands you your groceries, which he's been carrying for you like a gentleman for the last half hour.

"Thank you. For your help and the nice company," you thank him and fish the front door key out of your pocket.

Lando puts his hands back in the pockets of his jumper, undecided whether to hug you goodbye or not. "I have to thank you." He pulls his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. "Can I see you again? Maybe for dinner? I'll get your favourite can of soup too," he grins and you have to laugh out loud.

"I'd love to," you reply. Why green eyes and dimples suddenly flash in the back of your mind, you don't know.

"Great. Do you have Instagram?" he asks and you look at him, confused. He raises a hand and scratches the back of his neck nervously with it. "I'd ask for your number, but I don't think you're someone who gives out their number to helpful strangers just because they're friendly."

You turn your head and point to the front door. "Well, you already know where I live, after all. And yet you ask for my Instagram?"

He licks his lips once with his tongue. "I didn't mean to be too forward."

You look down at your shopping bag, then back up at him. "You? Forward? No way."

You tell him your Instagram name and he saves it before you say goodbye with a hug that, in retrospect, you might find a little too brief. But Lando doesn't seem to want to cross any lines, which is why he only puts one arm around you to pull you close for a moment, not pressing you tightly against him but leaving some space between you.

"I'll get back to you," he says as you put the key in the door lock and turn it. "Promise."

When you enter the apartment minutes later, Charles is sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop, which is on the coffee table in front of him. You feel his gaze on you as you close the door behind you and slip off your shoes.

"Bonjour, Y/N." He gets up and follows you into the kitchen, where you take the groceries out of the bag and place them on the countertop. "Thank you for shopping. Did you sleep well?"

You did indeed. Whether it was the wine or the fact that you really enjoyed your evening with him, you don't know. When you woke up this morning and found that Charles had already left, you had been a little too relieved. The thoughts you harboured towards him last night make you feel guilty, so you decide to repress them and forget about them.

Everything that happened last night was purely amicable, which his "mon ami" on the note also confirms. Secretly, you are glad that he sees it that way too. If he were to give you signs of being interested, you would have to think seriously about the whole situation. And you don't want that.

You're happy living with Charles. And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're sure he's a better friend than anyone else has ever been. No one in your old group of friends had ever been so friendly, so helpful, so caring.

If that's how friends behave, then you never really had any.

"Well," you answer him. "I'm still alive, although I didn't lock the door yesterday. That certainly lets me sleep well."

Charles smiles and reaches for the chicken breast, which he rinses and seasons as you put a pan of oil on the hob. "Or maybe I just want you to feel safe. And someday, when you're not expecting it, I'll catch you," he jokes.

"And that's exactly why I was serious about my offer last night," you return, watching as he puts the chicken into the hot oil. You hear it hiss and bubble. "That you can sleep in bed tonight. I don't mind. After all, it's your bed. And it's only fair that you use it."

Charles turns the chicken in the pan and looks at you. "And you're not just doing this so I won't murder you while you sleep?" His grin widens.

"That, my friend, is a nice side effect."

While the chicken sizzles away, you prepare the avocado and Charles the kale. "It's all right, Y/N. It's only been the second night on the couch. And I promise you nothing will happen that would make you lock the door."

"But last night you -"

"Last night the wine was talking out of me when I sent you the picture," he interrupts. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." His smile is gentle. "That's what we agreed and that's what we'll stick to."

"That we agreed, I know," you confirm, digging a bowl out of the cupboard. Charles fills it with the ingredients and finally puts the roasted chicken on top. You turn off the hob. "But I don't think we have to stick rigidly to that rule for this," you point to the space between you, "to work. We're friends, not strangers. And as your friend, I can't have you breaking your back."

You see Charles swallow before turning away and picking up the bowl. Apparently he doesn't know what to say in response, because he changes the subject as you sit down on the couch together. "So, are you coming tonight? We were going out for dinner and then to a club. You don't have to come if you don't want to, of course, but I'd love to introduce you to my friends. We're a cool group and I think you'd fit in quite well." He spears a piece of avocado with his fork. "Besides, maybe I can take your mind off your asshole of an ex-boyfriend that way."

That's right. There was something.

You haven't had to think about him since last night. About him calling you all the time and spoiling your mood. That he cheated on you a while back and broke your heart.

Charles managed, with just a film and his company, to make you forget the pain and anger. In his presence you felt comfortable, warm, which was perhaps also a little due to the wine. And as you thought back over the evening, a feeling spread through you that you could not describe.

The only word you can think of to describe this feeling is Charles.

"I didn't mean to remind you," your roommate says softly when you don't answer him. His eyes are fixed on his food. "Sorry."

You shake your head, more to let him know that your thoughts are not about your ex-boyfriend, but about Charles's kindness and care, but apparently he takes it as accepting the apology. He exhales in relief.

"So? Are you coming with me later? With my friends and me?", Charles asks again.

Isn't it too early to meet his friends? You two haven't known each other for very long either. But after all, you would be there as his roommate slash friend, not as his girlfriend. So for him, there's no reason why you shouldn't be there. So there is none for you either.

"Do I need to wear anything nice? My wardrobe isn't exactly the most elegant," you confess, pointing to the oversized jumper hanging from your shoulders and the black leggings down your legs.

Charles' gaze moves from your face, across your torso, down further to the tops of your feet, which are inches away from his. "It doesn't matter what you wear. You look beautiful in anything."

You hope he doesn't notice how hard you have to swallow the lump in your throat. "Then I'll come with you."

Satisfied, Charles puts a piece of chicken in his mouth and chews on it. As his cell phone vibrates on the table in front of you, he stiffens a little.

From your position you can see that an unknown number is calling him. And you can well understand his reaction to it. You definitely wouldn't answer a call either if you didn't know who it was from. A short time later the phone is silent again and the screen goes black again. Charles visibly relaxes.

"I think calls from unknown numbers are totally nerve-wracking," you try to lighten the situation a little. "There was a time when I let the phone keep ringing, but now I just press unknown callers away."

Charles looks to you. "Would you press my call away?"

You draw your eyebrows together. "Well, since I don't have your number, I probably would."

Your roommate presses his tongue into his cheek. "Then it would be better if I gave it to you, no?"

Without a word, you hand him your unlocked phone - which looks really puny in his big hands - so he can punch in his number before calling himself. As he hands it back to you, he picks up his own phone to put your number in, deleting the unknown call.

"Give me your Instagram, please."

You look at him uncertainly, but give him your name. "Do you need anything else? My credit card number? Birth certificate? National insurance number?"

"No, you dickhead." He taps away on his phone and a moment later a notification pops up on your screen.

bawsixteen started following you

You open the app and click on his account and on the "Follow" button and a few moments later his entire profile is visible to you. He hasn't posted many pictures, some you recognise from Jori's place, but one in particular catches your eye.

"So, tonight we're going out for dinner. Around eight, so we have to leave around around quarter to." Charles puts the empty bowl on the table and turns to you. "I have to leave in a few minutes. Will you be okay on your own until then? I don't think I'll be gone too long."

You wonder if he's going to the woman he spoke to on the phone yesterday. "I'm an adult, Charles. I'll be fine," you smile. "Maybe by then I'll find a nice potato sack to wear later."

Charles laughs, gets up and goes into the kitchen to wash the bowl. "If you can find a second one that might fit me, bring it along. Then we could go in matching clothes. That would be something." You hear him turn on the tap at the sink. "Well, if you find one, you can call me."

"As long as you promise to answer." You turn and lean your arm over the back of the couch to watch him. His back muscles stand out under his shirt and you can see them moving.

Charles looks over his shoulder at you and smiles. "Deal."

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alexawynters · 4 months

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Scarlet Whispers - pt 2

Gif not mine

A/N: Not sure about the formatting, copy and paste didn't quite work out as planned. Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Master list here

You miss your stop.

Not only do you miss your stop, but you end up all the way at the bus depot before the driver notices you passed out in one of the seats. The driver, a kindly older gentleman, offers to give you a lift home since it is the end of his shift anyway. He takes pity on you, perhaps due to your tired and sad appearance. Interestingly, no one seems to notice the red wisps behind his eyes.

You appreciate his kindness, but you are anxious about returning home. A quick look at your phone reveals that it is well past 6 PM and you have missed multiple calls and texts from both of your parents. This is not going to end well. In simple terms, you are fucked. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to notice your restlessness as your leg bounces nervously as he gets closer to your home.

As you exit the vehicle, you politely thank him and offer to pay for the gas, but the man refuses. His accent changes slightly as he says, "anything to help." You shrug it off, as it is not your concern where people are from. Your focus is on more pressing matters. After closing the door, you square your shoulders and mentally prepare for the absolute shit show awaiting you as soon as you step through the front door.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your father’s booming voice is the first to be heard. “Where were you?”

You start with the truth. “Dad I’m sorry, I was on the bus after my exam, I fell asleep with my headphones-”

”I don’t want your excuses! While you live here under our roof, you will show us some respect, you will follow our rules! You had chores to do today, why didn’t you do them?”

A bead of sweat trails down the back of your neck. You hate being interrupted, and you hate being asked questions when they clearly don’t want the answers. Besides, you are in your twenties, not a child. “As I was saying, I-”

This time your mother interrupts. “Don’t speak to your father like that. He asked you a question, we expect you to answer it!.”

You grit your teeth. “I fell asleep on the bus, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Always with the excuses this one.” Your father laments. “Do you think your future employer is going to care about any of that? No. He’s just going to want to know why you weren’t there.”

It takes every ounce of your sanity to not snap that your answer is the reason WHY you weren’t there, and not simply an excuse. Instead you hold your tongue. They aren’t here to listen, they don’t care. They just want to yell at you, and for you to be sorry.

“I tell you, with behavior like that it’s any wonder at all you’d even be able to keep a job. They would probably fire you on the spot, and then you would be right back on our doorstep, our problem once again to pick up the pieces.”

It’s all hypothetical of course - you’ve never been late to any of your classes, but you have not yet had a job, you weren’t allowed to. You are sure you wouldn’t be late to it though if you were to treat it like your classes. You know you can’t tell your parents this however. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

“Yes Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Saying sorry simply doesn't cut it! Sorry doesn’t fix the problem that you caused, so tell me, how are you going to make the problem right?” he demands. A vein throbs in his forehead. Absently you think about how he knows he should watch his blood pressure, but that would require him to watch his temper. Y/D/N could never.

You know what he is looking for, he wants you to do your chores now, but it’s after 8PM and your exam is at 8AM. If you do your chores now, that leaves you little time for last minute studying, eating, bathing, sleeping, and then catching the bus back to the university. Helplessly, you look to your mother for help.

“Don’t look at me, this is your mess you’ve created. If you had just done what you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you had just been good, you could be doing whatever it is you do with your free time right now.”

It had always annoyed you greatly that your parents were unaware of your academic achievements. While it's true that you didn't have the best grades as a child, once you entered university and chose a major, you became a straight-A student, even going so far as to make the President’s list the last three years in a row. However, in their eyes, you would always be the little underachiever they had to take care of.

Tears well up in your eyes. This situation wasn't fair. It was an accident. You had fully intended to come home and do your chores, but you couldn’t have known you would sleep through your alarm on the bus. You had been so incredibly exhausted that you experienced a vivid nightmare whilst awake. You were aware that you needed more sleep, but your degree was your only way out of this miserable place. You couldn't risk losing it all just because you missed a few hours of sleep now and then.

“Please?” You beg. You didn’t have anything else to argue in your defense. “I’ll leave my headphones in my bag this time, I’ll set multiple alarms, I won’t sleep, just please let me go study!”

Your parents look at each other, having silent communication. Seeming to come to an agreement, your mother speaks first. “Y/N we’re sorry it has to be this way, but you have already proven on multiple occasions that we can’t trust you to do the right thing. Tonight, you are going to do your chores even if it takes you all night to do it. Besides, we all know you’re not studying up there. For all we know you’re just up there masturbating in the window or something.”

Being stabbed in the chest would have been less painful. You don't understand why you're caught off guard; it's not like your mother hasn't said off the wall shit like this in the past. It's almost as if she thrives on finding the most hurtful and outrageous statements to throw in your face, as if you deserved them. As if you had ever done any of the things she accused you of. Like you were some sort of deviant, when all you wanted was simply the right to exist.

“What the actual fuck, Mom?!” you scream, having finally had enough. Both of your parents look taken aback. Rare is it for you to raise your voice at them, even more so to curse at them. “I know you’ve been pretty checked out of my life for a while now, but I’ve had a 4.0 GPA for the last three years. I don’t know where you got that… comment… from, but I can assure you that all I want to do is go to my room and study.”

“Now listen here young lady,” begins your father.

"No, YOU listen, Father," your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were right about one thing, and that is I am a gods damned adult. I take my studies seriously, and while it may come as a surprise to you since neither of you have paid any actual attention to my life since I turned 18, though it could be argued you really stopped paying attention earlier except for when I was being an inconvenience, but I am actually a great student. This is my last semester before graduating with honors and again, a 4.0 GPA, and I will have my choice of job opportunities. I will leave this place, and you miserable old bats will have no one to be your punching bag anymore. Then maybe just maybe you can finally take a look at the flaws and fix what's wrong with your own marriage, instead of trying to break ME!”

Your chest heaved. It felt good to speak your truth, but as the silence grew, you began to realize that you might have made a mistake.

Your father has finally gotten out of his chair, looming over you. A resounding slap echoes across the room as your father backhanded you, knocking you to the floor. “You ungrateful, miserable little bitch! I don’t know what lies those ‘professors’ at the university have been filling your head with, but you have no future, and you are lucky your mother and I care enough to let you live under our roof! And so long as you do, you will obey our rules, and show us the respect we deserve!”

Fearful, you scramble back to the wall and attempt to push yourself to your feet. “If that’s the price of living here, then I will happily live in the University’s library. One week, that’s all I need!” You step forward to make your escape from this house, but this time your mother shoves you, and once again you find yourself on your knees.

You raise your hands in self-defense, but your mother sneers, "Do it, Y/N, hit me, and you'll be out on your ass faster than you can blink!" Crying, you lower your hands and prepare to allow her to strike you.

The lights went out all at once, and everyone froze. Has the power gone out? It couldn’t have, you could still hear the hum of the AC unit. So what was wrong with the lights?

The lights turn back on as suddenly as they had gone out, and all three of you look around in confusion. However, despite the lights returning, the room appears darker, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The shadows cast a looming presence over all of you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your home, which you have lived in for around twenty ish years, suddenly feels foreboding, and you wonder if it's too late to flee. It almost resembles one of the nightmares you have been experiencing recently.

Red mist fills the room, a dreadfully sinister voice speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

All three of you turn to the source of the sound - the corner of the room, as a red and black leather-clad boot, attached to black leather pants, steps through a portal and into the room. The Scarlet Witch follows, radiating her full glory. She warns, "If you wish to keep your body parts intact, you will never lay a finger on Y/N ever again."

You’re pretty sure your eyebrows have never been closer to meeting your hairline before and yet here we are. You don’t know who this unfamiliar lady is, nor how she seems to know you but God damned if that outfit doesn’t look as if it has been painted onto her. You blush at your sinful thoughts. Now is not the time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a stroke of some sort. If nothing else, however, you are grateful for the reprieve from your beating.

Meanwhile, your parents had never taken well to being told what to do, by anyone, they certainly weren’t going to now by this costumed stranger. Your mother bristles. “Who is this Y/N? Another one of your little whores?” Completely disregarding the fact that you have never in fact had a partner in your entire life, and you don’t know whether to be pleased that she seems to think you’re capable of having a sex life or affronted that she thinks you’re some type of floozy. Your mother’s words, not yours.

“What? No, I-” You look helplessly from the floor between your parents and this woman you now recognize as the one from your visions, and the same one from your hallucination this morning. Is she here to help, or to hurt you? She has been your savior and aggressor in both; there’s no telling which she has chosen for now. Glancing between them, you are unsure how to de-escalate this situation. There is no way to convince your parents, for their own safety, that this woman is powerful and not to be trifled with. Nothing you could say, they would believe, and you were pretty sure this woman would kill your parents without a second thought if they didn’t tread carefully.

Seeming to sense your struggle, the woman speaks up in your stead. “As I’ve said, you would do well to keep your hands to yourself. I am here to take Y/N with me, and you will not stand in my way. This is your only warning, which I am giving to you out of consideration for Y/N.”

She reaches down for your hand to help you back up. Hesitantly, you take it, ignoring the shock that runs throughout your body, and begin questioning your entire reality. Take you with her? Who even is she? Where exactly is she going to be taking you? You had questions, and you would like some answers, but if you didn’t get your parents to stand down, you were pretty sure she would follow through on her threat. Sure, your parents were trash, but they were all you had. You loved them, and you were certain that, in their own warped way, they loved you, too.

She helps you up and proceeds to give you a thorough once-over, carefully inspecting your injuries. Her intense scrutiny makes you blush. Meanwhile, your parents remain silent, their thinly veiled anger evident as they observe your interaction. How dare this woman speak to them in such a manner? Thankfully, they wisely choose to keep quiet. Perhaps they also sense the dangerous aura emanating from this woman, perceiving her as a true threat. Then again, it could be due to the fact that she just stepped through a literal portal conjured out of thin air moments ago. Maybe they had been paying attention, but even you are unsure of what is real anymore.

Still holding your hand, the Scarlet Witch leads you back towards the portal she arrived through. "Come, Y/N, we have much to discuss." At this point, all you could do was helplessly trail after, hoping you weren't going from bad to worse. At least by leaving, your parents would be out of danger. As for yourself, well... It was clear that the Scarlet Witch wanted something from you. Hopefully, whatever that was would be sufficient to ensure your survival. Perhaps even enough to negotiate with.

At the last possible moment, your mother chooses, whether out of genuine love and concern for your well-being, or fear at the loss of her control over you, to reach out to take you from this bizarre woman. “Mother, no!”

Y/M/N finds herself promptly flung onto the wall behind her, and stuck there, unable to move. You aren’t sure who exactly screamed but you’re pretty sure it was every member of your family. The Scarlet Witch hadn’t even turned to look, the only indication she had even been involved is the raised hand, opposite the one holding yours, with dark, ink-stained fingertips, bent at slightly odd angles.

“Stop, please! Let her go, she won’t do it again, please! I'm sorry, please!”

Unsure of why you are begging for this woman’s life when she has spent the entirety of yours making sure you were miserable. Still, your heart lurched at the thought of anything happening to your mother. You didn’t like her, and if you never saw her again, that was probably for the best, but you certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

The Witch took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself, before turning to face you.

In the softest voice you had ever heard she whispers “Detka, I-.” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, deciding what to say. To your absolute mortification and delight, she leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, and promises “I will let them live, but I must say my piece.”

You nod, completely dumbstruck at everything happening in this moment. What. The. Fuck.

Y/M/N, still pinned to the wall, whimpers and struggles to move but is clearly unable to. The Scarlet Witch turns from you to face your parents. Another wave of her hand, and your mother slumps to the floor, alarmed, but otherwise unharmed. It is clear whatever the witch did, both she and your father are now restrained.

Footsteps approach the pair, and the lights in the house flickered ominously. Despite your mother being nearly 40 years older than her (or so you assumed, as you had no idea of this woman's age), the power emanating from her exuded confident malevolence. She showed no fear towards them, and for once, although ashamed to admit it, you were glad to see that they were afraid of someone else.

Though she was only about 5'6", the woman knelt before your parents, her voice filled with menacing intent. "I know everything you have ever done, everything you ever could do, and everything you ever will do. I know what you are guilty of. I know what you deserve, and I can assure you that it is not mercy. I will spare your lives and leave you unharmed due to the kindness of your daughter, the daughter you’ve abused for decades." As her head tilts, you can't help but feel that she becomes even more dangerous. "But if you ever try to take her from me again, I will seek retribution on her behalf, and I promise you it will be the most excruciating agony you have ever experienced. Do we understand each other?"

You squirm uncomfortably. This should not be doing things to you, but then again, no one had ever stood up for you. Ever. Gods you needed therapy. It’s fine. Little boxes, and this was for a little box for later.

The witch stood up and once again took your hand, leading you through the portal and leaving your parents behind. Perhaps for good, you weren’t entirely sure, and you suddenly realized you didn’t care. Anywhere was better than here; even if this woman was dangerous, at least for the moment, she seemed to care about you, and that was enough for you to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Again, therapy…

The pair arrive at a massive stone temple, which you would later learn is called Mount Wundagore, the Scarlet Witch's temple. It is built into a massive, rugged mountain with steep cliffs, situated above dense forests and enveloped in mist. The mountain exudes an air of mystique and possesses an eerie atmosphere. Scattered across its walls are depictions of the woman in front of you, accompanied by various runes whose significance you suppose hint at a potentially supernatural importance.

The Scarlet Witch does not make much of an effort for introductions, nor explanations, simply heads towards the entrance to her temple.

“What is this place?” you ask, hints of awe and fear in your voice

“Our home.”

Your brain stutters. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“Detka, do not pretend you did not hear me, I don’t enjoy repeating myself. This is our home.” Her accent sounds vaguely Eastern European, and becomes more pronounced the more irritated she is. You wonder when she started trying to hide it.

Your mind balks at the idea of this being your new home, it couldn’t be less foreboding. “Uhhh… this.. is a giant stone temple in BFE nowhere, with ice, snow, and-”

Movement startles you out of your reverie. Beings made entirely out of stone shift from foot to foot, as if adjusting their stance. Their eyes have the same red glow as the woman who leads you now.

“Are those rock trolls??” The stone guardians loom threatening, but make no move to engage, they await their Queen’s orders. “Right. Rock trolls. Why is this our home? WHERE is our home? And,” you spin, taking the aesthetic of the temple in, trying not to have an anxiety attack. “What do you mean -our- home? Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

You can’t tell if the faint twitch of the other woman’s lips is in amusement or annoyance at your ramblings, but in your defense, she had let you speak uninterrupted. You were known for getting entire paragraphs out if left unsupervised - it was a talent and a curse. Personally you felt she should be grateful you weren’t jumping down her throat, you didn’t know anyone else who would be taking this half as calmly as you were. Then again, you were still waiting on your Hogwarts acceptance letter at 25.

“My name is..” she hesitated. “Wanda. I am.. I was an Avenger.”

You looked on blankly, hoping she would elaborate. The fuck was an “Avenger”?

"In my universe," (you filed away the fact that she implied the existence of a multiverse for later, as it was a problem for another time) "the Avengers are superheroes. Well, that's what we called ourselves - Earth's Mightiest Heroes. A bit arrogant, if you ask me. We dealt with threats that the military and ordinary people couldn't handle. We were the last line of defense. We saved the world countless times, but at a great cost of lives. We were vain, thinking we were above it all because we believed we were acting for the greater good. But try explaining that to those who were lost as collateral damage.

I digress. We.. were considered to be heroes. There were several of us, we were a team. A family. We lived together, fought together. Died together. Until we didn’t.”

Wanda explains the dynamics of the Avengers team, including how she and her brother Pietro joined. She mentions Pietro's death in the battle against Ultron, as well as the events leading up to and the battle against Thanos. She also covers the events of the “Blip”, and what happened afterward. However, she conveniently chooses to omit the events of Westview, as she didn't want you to know about that just yet.

“That’s.. wow. Wanda, that's a lot. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen your powers myself, I wouldn’t believe you. But all of that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. You mentioned your universe as being so fantastical, why would you come here? And what do you want with me? If you’re a hero, why are you here in what totally looks like a villain’s lair and not with your other superhero buddies?” You neglect to mention the unease creeping up your spine.

This is fine. Everything is fine. Right? Right.

A look of utter despair crosses the witches face as she locks eyes with you before glancing away.

“I mentioned my team before, but I didn’t mention you.”

“…” You slow blink. This was not how you thought your day was going to go, and honestly, you were already getting a bit of a headache. Could she be less cryptic because that would be great. More details, fewer questions. Maybe another nap.

"Y/N, where I am from, you were also an Avenger. You had joined the team before Pietro and I, and were one of the few who made us feel welcome. Despite the fact that we had previously been enemies, you didn't treat us as ticking time bombs. Instead, you welcomed us with open arms. Your go-to tactics were kindness and understanding, which made it hard not to want to get to know you. When Pietro died, you were the only one who checked on me and cared. You taught me that grief is just love persevering. You became my closest friend, and over time, I couldn't help when those feelings began growing into something more.”

You swallow uncomfortably. It sounds like Wanda is telling you that in this other universe you both were an item. It’s not that you wouldn’t be honored to be with such an attractive woman, but it feels weird knowing that that was a different version of you. Someone with superpowers, someone likely more confident by the sounds of it. This feels almost as if you are intruding on something you shouldn’t, yet Wanda is the one telling you this; if it weren’t okay for you to know, she surely wouldn’t be sharing. You don’t really know what to make of this; if she has feelings for this other you, why is she here with this version of you?

“In the battle against Thanos, we learned that the source of your powers was an infinity stone embedded in your skull courtesy of H.Y.D.R.A. experiments, which altered your genetic DNA. Thanos had also learned you possessed this Mind Stone and sought to take it from you by force.”

Anguish on her features, the witch turns to you. “You were going to die, Y/N. We tried, I tried, so hard to protect you, to keep you away from him but at every turn he found you. If he had gotten the Mind Stone, he would have been able to enact his plan to rid the universe of half of all life. You told me.” She hiccups.

“Y-you told me it was okay, that you forgive me. That I needed to.. that I needed to destroy the stone to save the universe. I didn’t want to. I would have given anything else but that. But you held my hand and told me you forgave me, that you only felt me. Then Thanos came, and we were out of time. I was the only one with the power to do it because its magic was so similar to my own. I placed my hand to your head and I-.” She is unable to continue, breaking off into sobs.

Oh. So she had to sacrifice you to save the universe. Well. You agree with the alternate you, you didn’t blame her, and you would definitely forgive her. Awkwardly you try to find some way to comfort her. While obviously you were not the same person she had loved and lost, and you knew from your own experiences with loss that sometimes words just couldn’t cut it. Instead, you shuffle forward, making sure you were heard in case she wanted to refuse you, and pullher in for a hug.

Wanda tenses in your embrace, as if she can’t decide if she wants to sink into it or send you flying. “The worst part,” she continues, “was that it meant nothing.”

If you were a dog your head tilt might have been cute.

“In the end, Thanos was still able to get the Mind Stone, and you were still dead, by MY hand, and it all meant NOTHING!” Wanda wrenches herself from your grasp, looking positively unhinged. You probably should have been scared. You weren’t. Her wrath did… things… to you. Therapy…

“All because Strange saw supposedly every possible future and CHOSE to let you die to save everyone else. As if there was no other possible outcome!”

Oh, that... that makes more sense. The other you was still dead, and Wanda was definitely suffering from PTSD from her involvement in it. Her little stunt with your parents was probably her way of trying to save you or bring you back to life. But in your universe, there weren't any superheroes, magic, or Thanos to protect you from (that you were aware of at any rate). So what was Wanda doing? This wouldn't bring her version of you back to life. You may have looked and sounded alike, and you might have made similar decisions, but you simply weren't the same person. The lack of the same life experiences meant that you had different personalities, despite having a similar genetic build.

“So we saved the world, and I left to live in exile. After the funeral, Clint handed me your belongings, and in them was a letter. A deed to a plot of land you had purchased in our names where we were going to build a house. I think it was supposed to be a surprise after we defeated Thanos. We had never lost before, not since Pietro - I don’t think it occurred to us that we could. So I drove out to see and.. Y/N I was still so new to my powers. They were still mostly subconscious. I was grieving and... it would be easier if I show you. May I?”

“May you.. what?”

A subtle smile appears on the witches' face at your ignorance. You are tempted to mention how beautiful she looks with that smile. Shaking off the thought, you ponder if she can read your mind, as her smile becomes knowing and a slight blush colors her cheeks. Ink-stained fingers reach towards your temple, but she hesitates, waiting for your consent, and your heart fills with warmth. You nod once, despite not really understanding.

Her charcoal-colored fingers, cold to the touch, make contact with your temple. Just as you're about to complain about the lack of warning, you're abruptly transported into a completely different world, surpassing the immersive experience of any 3D movie you've ever seen. You not only hear and see everything in every direction, but you can also feel and smell it all. It feels as if you are truly present in that moment. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that you are witnessing someone else's memories, to be precise, Wanda's memories.

She starts her memory with the unexploded bomb created by Tony Stark, which sat in the middle of the rubble of the Maximoff residence. In that chaotic scene, there were two children, the twins, hiding in fear under a bed. However, before you could offer any comfort, the scene shifted. The twins had been taken to HYDRA, where they were subjected to brutal experiments. Witnessing their suffering broke your heart, and despite your best efforts, you were unable to interact with your surroundings, although you desperately tried. Repeatedly you threw yourself against the walls of the cells in which the twins were held, hoping to free them from their hellish situation. You observed the twins' powers first emergence: Pietro's as he attempted to reach his sister's side, and Wanda's as she tried to defend Pietro from the scientists.

Scene after scene, each one as traumatic, if not more so, than the last, depicting all the events from Ultron and beyond. And then there's you. Except, it's not really you. You've certainly never possessed the power of teleportation, nor have you ever been so self-assured. This must be Wanda's universe's version of you. With bright eyes and a warm demeanor, you appear as a beacon of light in Wanda's otherwise bleak life. You observe as the version of you in this universe warmly welcomes the twins to the team, a stark contrast as to how the rest of the team treats the newcomers ranging from suspicious to openly hostile.

It’s surreal, watching yourself from outside your own body, knowing this version isn’t really you, but still no less real of a person. Wanda’s memories begin focusing less on missions and more on interpersonal relationships. Specifically, the one developing between yourself and Wanda. It’s intimate and you feel like an intruder watching this unfold. Sadly, as you grow closer, Wanda loses the only other connection she has - Pietro is hit by stray bullets while saving children. A true hero, and there was nothing anyone on the team could do to prevent it. You watch in horror both for the loss of Pietro as a friend, as well as knowing the absolute devastation this will cause your beloved Witch.

You can tell at this point that that’s what she was to you. It hasn't been long, but that bond has clearly already been sealed; you can see the signs in both your alternate self and Wanda. You would have to be blind not to. The loss of her brother does terrible things to Wanda and it’s all your other self can do to try to keep her afloat. “What is grief but love persevering?”

The scene shifts again. Time has clearly passed, and Wanda appears to have healed to some extent. She and the team have become much more cohesive, which delights both versions of you. Your relationship has definitely progressed, if the blush currently gracing your face, extending to your ears, is any indication. You feel the remnants of the emotions from your alternate self. They are not yours, but neither are they entirely unfamiliar. It makes for a disconcerting sensation to say the least. You don’t know Wanda like that, even though this version of you does. You wish you could view these memories dispassionately, free from your alternate self’s emotions that are bleeding through, but you suspect that’s not possible. Once again you try to reassure yourself that you are not the same person, no matter the genetic makeup.

Jarring you from your reverie, next you find yourself in another battle, and this one is massive. There are more superheroes here than you have ever seen before, either in Wanda's memories or in films. This must be the fight against Thanos she had told you about. Dread settles in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you contemplate what it will be like to witness your own death.

Traumatizing, for sure, though not for the reasons you had expected. While you are unable to interact with your environment, you are able to freely move about. Instead of looking at the memory entirely from Wanda’s perspective, you move to stand beside yourself. Wanda stands before you, ethereal, magnificent, yet utterly devastated. She knows what she has to do and pleads with you not to make her. It is unjust for a woman so powerful to suffer such loss, and still you implore her to sacrifice your life, her happiness, for the sake of the rest of the universe. It is unfair. It is cruel. You know it, but you ask anyway.

She never could tell you “no.”

You know the moment this universe's version of you had died when you witness the sheer devastation on Wanda's face. Most people would probably look away, but you couldn't. For some unknown reason, you feel compelled to witness this moment in all its horrifying detail, if only to gain a true understanding of the witch and the immense pain she has endured. There were surely few things more intimate than allowing someone to share their own memories, and here Wanda was, granting you unrestricted access to hers. The least you could do was accept this gift she was offering, no matter how painful it might be.

The images that follow blur together, evoking your personal experiences with grief and a sense of detachment from the world. The funeral is somber, one and all everyone dressed in black and grey. Wanda is present only in body, and you can’t blame her. Clint, the archer, hands her your belongings, including the letter she had mentioned. It unnerves you how detached Wanda appears to be at this moment, despite being surrounded by friends and colleagues. You worry about what lies ahead for her. So much loss in such a short time, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know this would surely take a toll on her. You prayed that her friends came to check on her, but you had a feeling either they didn’t, or in her grief, she refused them entry.

Colors blend into one another and fade out. You find yourself standing on a plot of land in a town called Eastview, crouching next to Wanda as she collapses to her knees. Her body is wracked with anguished sobs as she finally allows herself to grieve. You wish you could interact with this memory, to hold her and alleviate some of her pain, even if only for a moment. Instead, you sit with her, sharing in her pain as she releases it all into the world. Wanda allows herself to experience her grief in its entirety, no longer burying her feelings beneath a veneer of numbness. Colors leech from the world around her, turning it greyscale. You're pretty certain that even at their strongest, the average person's manifestation of grief isn't supposed to do that, but then again, the average person isn't the Scarlet Witch. Briefly, you wonder what consequences this will have on her world. Your head feels fuzzy, and as your vision fades to black, you suppose you are about to find out.

You regain consciousness and find yourself in a world entirely devoid of color. Disoriented, you blink as the details of your surroundings slowly come into focus. In front of you stands... well... yourself. Or rather, an alternate version of you who appears to be from the 1950s, slightly older but still alive. Seated beside 1950’s you is Wanda, also monochrome and dressed in 1950s attire. Blearily, you rub your eyes. It has been a long day, and you are extremely tired, unsure if this is just an incredibly vivid hallucination or if you have actually passed out somewhere.

Alternate you asks Wanda a question, to which you aren’t listening, and she replies with a quip - you still aren’t listening, wondering where you are and why everything is in greyscale. What catches you off-guard though, is the surround sound laugh track that‘s garnered in response. It’s galling to admit but you jump, startled, and look around. There’s no one else in the house besides yourself, the alternate version of you, and Wanda. Where did that come from?

Alternate you replies to Wanda, and again with the laugh track. This time you are not as startled, but no less unsettled. What fresh hell is this? Could this be Wanda’s doing? It doesn’t seem like you can ask her though, as you’re just a passive observer in this strange situation. The last thing you remember, Wanda was grieving in Eastview at the plot of land which alternate you had purchased to start your life together after retiring from being superheroes. Strange grey wiggly woos (as you were starting to refer to her magic) were emanating from the witch, quite different from the familiar scarlet color you had grown accustomed to.

Perhaps this was her doing, if only subconsciously. You tried to recall, didn’t Wanda mention something about her powers being new to her and mostly unintentional? This could be what she had been referring to. Apprehension made a home in your chest as you found yourself dreading whatever was about to unfold before you. Oh no, Wanda, what did you do?

It doesn’t take long after observing the hijinks and mishaps, for you to realize that Wanda's grief had manifested through her powers. She had transformed the town of Eastview into Westview, resembling a 1950s-style sitcom town. Wanda, along with an alternate version of yourself (if you were truly still alive - that part you hadn't figured out yet), and the entire town were trapped. While it may have started unintentionally, Wanda became aware of it and began actively using her powers to maintain her idyllic town, keeping it isolated from the outside world and preventing the townspeople from leaving. In her grief, Wanda was essentially playing house, holding everyone hostage. However, despite her powers growing stronger, it was clear that the people living there were suffering. If you could even consider their existence as living.

There were even two boys - twins, just like Wanda was a twin. Your heart broke, knowing this could not possibly end well. While technically not "real" and not even "yours" at that, watching these boys be born, live, and grow caused you to cultivate a love for them almost as if they were your own. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest; you didn't want to see how this plays out, but you didn't have a choice.

Despite the dysfunction in your parents, you had always wanted a family of your own. An attempt to break the cycle and bring new life - happy and healthy - into this world. You wanted to raise your kids with the love and care you had never experienced yourself.

You understood the motivations of the witch, but that didn't justify her morally questionable choices. Once again, you are condemned to remain on the sidelines, unable to take any action to resolve the situation. You are forced to witness this charade unfold, hoping and praying that it would end well for everyone involved, yet knowing that it would not. How could it possibly?

Despite your bias, after witnessing everything Wanda had endured, you found yourself wishing for the best outcome for her, in particular. Among all the people you could think of, she deserved a break from the misery that had plagued her life until now.

Eventually, it all came to a head when another witch named Agatha Harkness had infiltrated the town with a book called the Darkhold, attempting to convince Wanda to join her and increase their powers. If Wanda refused, the witch planned to take Wanda's powers for herself. Something about a prophecy regarding a Scarlet Witch.

Meanwhile, the alternate version of you had become self-aware of the true nature of Westview. This version of you pleaded with Wanda to prioritize the wellbeing of others over her own happiness, once again. They urged Wanda to defeat Agatha and free the townspeople, even if it meant losing her spouse and children. It was an impossible choice, and you questioned whether you could have mustered the courage to make the same decision in Wanda’s position.

Wanda defeated Agatha, not that you ever doubted her for a moment. She said goodbye to you, again, and then to her boys, and released her spell. The town was free, but her family.. was gone. Wanda was once again on her own.

A startled gasp leaves your lips as you awaken from the memories. It feels like it’s been ages, but from what you can tell, it must only have been minutes since Wanda first began sharing her memories with you. “Oh.”

Cringe. You wish you could have said something, anything more eloquent. Unfortunately, you feel as though you've just been hit by a Mack truck and could nap for a week. It doesn’t help that you were still feeling the effects of lack of sleep for the last couple of weeks.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good, is it okay if I lay down somewhere…?” A quick glance around the temple makes you second guess the question you were about to ask. Stone floors did not make a good bed.

With a tone much softer than she had been using, she replied. "Of course, Detka, you only need to ask."

An elegant wave of her slender fingers and gone is the stone temple, replaced by a cozy bedroom. At a cursory glance, you can tell it is a sanctuary of comfort and tranquility, featuring a plush, inviting bed. The room is adorned with personal touches, such as framed photographs of you and Wanda, and artwork that is somehow absolutely your aesthetic. Shelves display a carefully chosen selection of your favorite books, each waiting to be explored. These items add character and give the space a feeling that is unique to you, even though you have never set foot in this place before.

“Come,” A glimpse of Wanda and you are surprised to discover instead of her red and black uniform, she is now garbed in an oversized sweater and some cotton sweatpants.

“You have been holding space for others for so long, it is time you took some well-deserved rest. You work much too hard.”

“Uh s-sure.” About to make a comment that perhaps you should also change, but looking down to find that you are wearing your favorite worn Legolas shirt and some pajama shorts.

“Right. Rest.” Part of you wants to ask when you can return to your home so you can finish studying for your exams, but based on previous conversation, context clues tell you that’s the least of your concerns right now, and Wanda probably wouldn’t be too pleased with that topic of discussion right now.

Wanda takes your hand, leading you to the bed and it takes your overworked brain far longer than you care to admit to realize that she means for you both to share it. Your brain short-circuits at all the factors at play here: Knowing that you yourself are touch-starved; this absolute enchantress of a woman dated an alternate universe’s version of you, even going so far as basically playing housewife and mother of your children, and here she was asking you to share a bed. Sure, she wasn’t asking you to sleep with her, but she was still asking you to share a bed next to her and what if you accidentally spooned her in your sleep, and what if-

”You’re thinking too loudly, malysh.”

“What? You can- you’re a mind reader?!” you panic, backpedaling mentally, praying to every deity that existed that you hadn’t had any unsavory thoughts in her presence, and nearly fainting as you recalled that you in fact, had some rather explicit thoughts from the moment you first saw her.. The mortification alone was enough to put you into an early grave. You weren’t sure how you had missed that during everything she had shown you, but you reasoned you were probably more focused on the physical manifestations of her powers.

"Relax, Y/N. I don't intentionally read minds, at least not anymore. Sometimes, surface thoughts are so loud that I can't help but hear them. Like right now, you're practically yelling them at me," she said, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

Unfortunately, while you were no longer freaking out about having accidentally offended the witch, you were now spiraling down a different path. You were agonizing over the pain you had, and likely were still causing her by thinking so loudly. If you remembered any media involving mind reading, the person with the ability usually suffered greatly at the hands of others unintentionally. Naturally, the average person didn't know how to shield their thoughts, and you were afraid that you might be giving her a migraine. To the woman who had only tried to bring you to a safe place and offer you shelter.

You began to hyperventilate.

Wanda could see that you were spiraling, even without being a mind reader. It was written clearly on your face. However, being able to hear your thoughts helped her identify the source of your anxiety, and she berated herself for not considering that earlier. This version of you lacked confidence, and it was now Wanda's responsibility to help rebuild it. At least, according to her.

"Your parents really did a number on you, didn't they, detka?"

Cool hands gently held your cheeks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Suddenly, Wanda invades your personal space, and the scent of vanilla fills your nostrils, momentarily distracting you from what was happening.

"We're just going to take a nap, okay Y/N? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not bothered by any of those thoughts you have." A leering grin unfurls across her face.

“If anything I’m quite flattered by them.” She winks.

Heat flashes across your body, and you can’t tell if you were embarrassed, aroused, or both. Unfortunately, you knew your thoughts were likely betraying you. Gods, if only the floor could just open up right now and swallow you into the abyss. Yes, that would be fantastic.

"However, there is time enough for such things later. It's been years, Y/N, and I've just got you back. Nap with me, please?" The witch's eyes gaze longingly into yours, and well, when she looks at you like that, how could you say "no"?

She leads you to the bed and, with the practiced ease of her time in Westview, pulls you into her embrace as the little spoon. Earlier, you had been worried about accidentally touching her inappropriately or having a dirty dream. Now though, with her arms wrapped so protectively around you, sleep claims you almost instantaneously.

#Wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dark wanda x reader

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goldenhypen · 2 years

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❣︎ ⎯⎯ would you still love me even as a worm?

PAIRING ! yang jungwon x reader // GENRE ! fluff, crack // WC. ! 0.6k

PROMPT(S) ! 3. laying their hand on the other’s leg ;; 11. calling them nicknames ;; 22. placing a hand on the back of the other’s neck // requested by a lovely anon and @miraculouspabu <3 // 2k followers event

A/N. ! this drabble was inspired by the tiktok trend referred to in the title ,,, and ,, ahaha idk if i did it justice tbh. feedback is always appreciated tho :> hope you enjoy !!

“would you still love me if i turned into a worm?”

at your very random question, jungwon turned to you, giving you a funny look as he furrowed his brows.

“baby,” he started, taking his hand and placing it on your leg, caressing his thumb softly over your lower thigh. “what kind of question—“

“i know it might sound weird, but just answer the question,” you said, trying to sound serious as you tried to hold back a smile.

“no, i don’t like that question,” he shook his head.

“please, wonie, just answer the question,” you gave your best attempt at convincing him through probably what were some the worst puppy eyes you could ever make.

“that’s a dumb question.”

“it is not!” you exclaimed, playfully defensive. “now, would you still love me if i tur—“

but before you could finish the question you had made so many attempts in asking, you were cut off with your boyfriend’s lips on your own. you couldn’t help but close your eyes, melting into the kiss, and bringing your hands around his neck pulling him closer.

however, in no time, you were snapped back to reality before pulling away.

“hey!” you started. “that was a dirty move, yang jungwon—trying to shut me up by kissing me. rude!”

laughs only escaped his lips, but you tried your best to remain strong and serious, furrowing your brows at him, “it’s not funny.”

“sorry,” he started, “but it’s really funny.”

you pouted, looking at him as angrily as you could make out without bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“aw,” jungwon began again, feigning sadness, “is my little wormie sad?”

“no, but imagine,” you started, suddenly back to as excited about the idea as when you first brought up the question, “what if we were both two little worms, right?”

he looked at you, very skeptical before he nodded slightly for you to continue.

“we’d be—love worms,” you finished, followed by a fit of giggles.

“y/n,” your boyfriend groaned. “seriously? that was so bad.”

you acted offended at his statement as your jaw dropped dramatically.

“fine,” you replied. “but—okay—if we were two little worms though, you know what i would call you?”

he gave you a displeased look before letting you continue, acting as if he wasn’t looking forward to the answer you had for him.

“jung-worm.”

there was a silence that somehow came out to ironically feel very loud before you let out a fit of giggles that you unsuccessfully contained.

“okay,” jungwon ‘fake laughed,’ “i think that’s enough bad jokes and dumb questions for the day.”

he began standing up, about to walk away.

“don’t pretend as if you don’t enjoy it,” you said playfully. “i know you love it.”

“no,” he said, stopping in his tracks, “no, they were quite terrible to say the least.”

he turned around and you waited for him as he continued after letting out a small chuckle, “but you know—even if it meant hearing all these worm jokes from you every day—i’d still choose you any day, in any form, because i guess i just love you that much.”

“thanks, wonie,“ you giggled “—i mean—wormie.”

he rolled his eyes jokingly before coming to you and placing a short kiss to your lips, pulling away with a smile, “shut up.”

A/N. thank you for reading !! reblogs and feedback are always helpful <3

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zoeysdamn · 2 months

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I had no choice - Knight!Nikolaï x reader

A/N: More angst for @corpsebasil AU? heck yes. Also I'm sorry in advance this was better in my head fjnkjrbg

Part 2 of this one-shot (tho you can also read it as a stand-alone)

Summary: You and your secret lover Sir Nikolaï got married in secret a few months ago. As the princess of Ravka, you can’t let this information become public right now. But what might happen if your hand is forced to reveal it? Are your royal duties more important than your union to your beloved knight? TW: angst, child neglect, slight violence, mention of blood and death in childbirth, angst, slut-shaming, dubious morals, mention of su!cide

It was easy, at first. The first months of your married life, albeit a secret one, had been blissful and lovely, and easy. There was the thrill of secrecy, the shared glances that now carried the bubbling emotions of newlyweds, the stolen kisses behind curtains, and the knowledge of returning to each other’s arms when the night would come. But after several months of this untainted happiness, reality slowly came back. It wasn’t a crashing realization, more like a creeping around your mind just like the insidious whispers in the corridors reaching your ears from time to time. Then came the crippling doubt. Nothing loud or really consistent, but quiet and haunting at every small moment of silence within your mind. What if someone knows? What if we weren’t that discreet? What of it then? You knew the answer to that last one, of course ; treason, trial, exile, maybe even execution for Nikolaï – perhaps even yourself. Ironically, the love Nikolaï showered you with was precisely what made you neglect those thoughts. It might have been a deliberate subconscious move too, to bury your own head in the sand instead of being practical. And that despite all of the warnings around you, that led you to the exact situation you currently were in.

The day had started as usual though. You woke up in the arms of your lover – your husband – like any other day. It was always a bliss to look at the peaceful asleep face of Nikolaï, getting kissed by the first rays of sun like a delicate brush on a painting. You consider yourself lucky to be able to catch a glimpse of the handsome relaxed face of the knight every morning. Though it was always a matter of getting up before the maids came to your own adjacent chamber, Nikolaï always took the time to shower you with kisses to start his day ; you gladly returned the favor, by the way. Then the dreadful slipping away from his chamber, just to put back on the princess role once again. Getting dressed, getting breakfast, where you see Nikolaï again, dressed in his knight outfit this time. The day has gone by as usual, meeting with your ladies in waiting or dignitaries, walking around the palace gardens, Sir Nikolaï always close by as the dutiful bodyguard – and devoted husband he was. Then during the afternoon tea, a guard showed up to whisper something to your beloved knight’s ears, to which he answered with a sharp nod. Polite as ever, he had excused himself to attend this military matter that requested his attention ; nothing out of the ordinary really, for the captain of the knights.

The prospect of him leaving your side for a few hours had you pout a little, but the deception had been quickly washed away by the knowledge and secret promise of a later reunion in the wink Nikolaï secretly sent you before exiting the room.

Really, everything had started as it always was.

Then, out of the blue, two guards arrived in the tea room and asked to follow them, per your father’s request. It wasn’t something terribly surprising either, as the princess of Ravka the king could sometimes summon you ; so although it wasn’t planned, you weren’t surprised and you followed your father’s guards. Most of the palace guards were known by you, at least by face if not by name and Nikolaï’s words, but the king’s guards were a special case. Unlike the rest of the military, they didn’t serve Ravka, but the King only. And you were about to remember that very soon.

“Father,” you greeted with a small courtesy as you entered the gilded room, “you had requested my presence?”

The king lifted his nose from the paper he was reading. Despite all the etiquette lessons you had been through growing up, the first thought that came to your mind was that he was looking old. Decades of ruling a country and being an absent father does that to you, you supposed. All while you thought about it, you missed the somber look the monarch was giving.

“Leave us,” he said sharply to the guards. Ever obedient, the two soldiers who escorted you swiftly left the room without a word.

This made you frown slightly in confusion. “Is something wrong, father?”

“What do you think?” he said sharply. “Why would I have summoned my useless child if everything was fine?”

The sting of his words took you by surprise for a moment. Growing up, you knew the king didn’t like you – your mother was supposed to give birth to a boy after all. With no male heir and a wife who died shortly after giving birth, the King never bothered to hide his disdain for you, at least in private. You had learned to not be upset by it with the years, and by the time you were an adult you both ignored each other the most you could. The sudden verbal attack for years wasn’t expected.

Squaring your shoulders for the incoming scolding, you tried to keep your voice as steady as you could. “What do you mean, sir?”

The king slammed his hand on the table out of anger, startling you. When he looked you dead in the eye with a look full of hate, you knew it was useless to try to resolve this issue with diplomacy.

“Do you think of me deaf and blind, child?” he spat angrily. “Do you think of me stupid enough to not know everything that goes around in my own house?”

Gulping slowly, you tried to appease the situation. “Sir I–”

“Do not talk back,” the king hissed as he sprung up from his chair. His face had turned redder in anger as yours paled. “Did you think you could go around my back like that?”

“Sir,” you said shakily, even though your voice tried to be steady, with all due respect, I really don’t know what you’re talking ab–”

The slap that echoed in the room cut the words out of your mouth before you could even blink. Add to that the surprise of the physical attack, and the force your father used on it, you lost balance and crashed on the floor. Your ears were ringing, head spinning as a hot, searing pain bloomed on your cheek. Trying to steady yourself on the hardwood floor, you barely even noticed the tears welling in your eyes at the shock. With a trembling hand, you reached for your bruised cheek ; a string of blood coated your fingers, fresh from the cut the sharp edge of the king’s rings had made when he slapped you. You felt your heart sink into your stomach at the sight: there was no coming back from this situation.

“Don’t make yourself a liar atop of a whore, child”, the king seethed, glaring coldly at you.

The words felt like a second punch, you almost snapped your neck looking up to him with wide eyes. The pathetic sight of the princess of Ravka on her knees with tears-filled eyes and bruised cheek made the monarch snicker in disgust.

“Did you think I’d never found out about your ridiculous affair with that bastard? That saints-forsaken son of a bitch of a knight–”

“Leave him out of this,” you pleaded with a raspy voice. The tears were heavy in your eyes and voice, but you’ll be damned if you didn’t fight for Nikolaï’s honor just like he did for you.

“I’ll have that filthy bastard’s head no matter how much you’ll beg,” sneered the king in disdain. “This is what you get when you spread your legs for the first knight in sight, you whore.”

The accusation hurt even more at the implication that you could have bedded any knight that had come across you ; Nikolaï was anything but a random knight. But your father hadn’t finished with you yet.

“And it wasn’t enough for you to fuck him, you had to marry him,” he spat with a disgusted snarl. “Just how dumb are you? You had one role in this life, to marry according to my choice and nothing else! Who would ever marry a useless slut like you now, hmm?”

Despite your firm intent to stand up for your love and union, you couldn’t help but feel a heavy lump of shame forming in your throat. Years of conditioning to your role as the princess of Ravka came to shame you: of course as a female heir, the only use you were supposed to have to the kingdom was to marry the most interesting party your father and his council would have chosen. But alas, you had failed this mission in favor of your heart’s choice.

“You’re a disgrace to this kingdom and your family,” the king spat once again. “But as much ashamed as I am with you, I fortunately have a solution to make something acceptable for us.”

Snapping your head up from the floor, you stared at him with wide eyes, fearing what he would say. “What are you going to do?” you asked with a trembling voice.

He tsked in annoyance. “Your little…fling is fortunately not known by anyone but me. I made sure of that after my spies reported your filthy sins to me.”

His words echoed in your mind once, twice, before a gasp escaped you when you realized his implications. “D-do you mean that…you had them killed?” you hiccuped.

Once again your reaction seemed to only bring more irritation to the king, who only rolled his eyes. “Did you think I’d let anyone live with that knowledge? You have dragged our family’s honor through the dirt enough, I couldn’t let anyone spread a word about this.” He glanced at you to see tears roaming on your cheeks and let out a bitter huf. “This better be a lesson for you, you ungrateful child. Their deaths are because of you, and no one else.”

“No,” you whimpered, “this isn’t true, I never wished for their deaths–”

“Enough!” the king barked, running short on his patience. “I will not hear one more word from your treacherous mouth! You will be confined in your room until I deemed so, and I can promise you that the only way for you to get out will be to be married to someone I chose to fix your mistakes!”

Your eyes widened, causing more tears to roll on your cheeks. “You can’t do that!” you cried pathetically. “You can’t unmake vows made before the Saints–”

Another rough slap cut you once again, and you gasped at the new attack. “Quiet! I don’t want to hear anything from you, whore!”. Just as you tried to ease the ringing of your head after the slap, your father forcefully grabbed your face to make you look up to his hateful eyes. “I may be unable to untie that heathen marriage of yours, but death most certainly can.”

His words tore an horrified gasp from your throat, but he carried on venomously.

“I’ll have the head of Sir Nikolaï delivered to you on a silver platter as a wedding gift, as soon as that son of a bitch returns to the palace, do you understand me?”

Against all of your might, you nodded your head weakly, tears roaming on your face. As soon as he got your understanding, the king yanked his hand off your face in disgust. As to prove a point, he immediately grabbed a handkerchief and wiped his hand clean; that’s the moment when you realized that something other than tears was dripping on your lips. When your trembling fingers brushed against your abused lip, you realized that was blood which dripped from your nose.

The king shot you another disgusted glare.

“Put yourself together, child.”

Like an automat, you clumsily managed to get up on wobbly legs, eyes lost into nothingness. You felt dizzy, numb, unable to think properly at the tragic turn of events in such a short amount of time. It was like your body acted on its own, whipping away the blood that had tickled down your face with the back of your hand in a very unlady-like manner. It didn’t matter though, considering your father had already turned his back to you to look at the window, signaling this was the end of this dreadly entrevue.

“This conversation never happened to anyone but us,” he stated coldly. “Am I being clear?”

Somehow your body responded on its own – even more surprisingly, your father seemed to have seen you nod ; or perhaps he had expected you to react like the obedient puppet you had been trained to be. You barely even noticed him calling for one of his guards and the said guard entering the room.

“Take the princess back to her rooms,” he ordered coldly. “She is to be kept there under some of my personnel guard’s surveillance at all times until I say otherwise. No one but a few personal maids is to enter, am I understood?”

Whether the guard had answered or not didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have heard them anyway. Too lost in your own foggy, broken mind, you barely even be conscious of your own moving through the halls of the palace to your room, nor the looming presence of the watching guard. It was only when they let you inside of your room, and you heard the lock of the door, that the full realization of the situation sank in with a crash.

Tears that had previously dried up came back flooding on your cheeks and you felt like you were suffocating. Trembling and dizzy, you had to lean on the wall for support as you cried. How did all of this happen?

Nikolaï and you had always shown the utmost discretion, of course ; you knew the risks. No one had witnessed your wedding but the priest who had officiated it. As a man of the church, he was sworn to secrecy, you had an absolute trust in him. Embraces, kisses and passion had always been confined to the privacy of your chambers – much to both your disappointment and safety. Outside and for everyone’s eyes, you became the princess and Sir Nikolaï once again and nothing more. So how did everything go so wrong, so fast?

Shaky fingers went to clutch the ring looped on the thin chain around your neck. Oh, how you wished Nikolaï was here with you at the moment. You craved his presence, his comfort and his love. He would have known how to comfort you, how to find a solution. But he wasn’t by your side, and the moment he’d come back would be his ultimate demise. A sob wrecked your body ; you probably wouldn’t even be able to see your love, your husband one last time.

You spent the next half hour crying, whimpering, curled on the ground against the wall. The gash in your heart couldn’t stop bleeding, forbidden to heal due to the absence of Nikolaï and the tragic upcoming of his inevitable death. Despair clung onto your soul, embedding itself to the deepest parts of yourself. Never in your life, especially after your wedding, you would have thought you’d feel like that again.

Being the princess of Ravka never prevented to have an abusive parent, you knew that better than anyone. Insults and slaps had been frequent when you were a child, whether it was for a silly mistake on your part or simply your father having a bad day. The king never forgave you for your mother’s death and you being a girl ; his parental affection had been buried deep down in the ground at the same time as your mother, it had seemed. But the years had passed, and you had learned to know better than to expect any love from the king, and to avoid his rageful fits by making yourself useful. Being a political asset by mastering the art of negotiation and diplomacy had smoothed your relationship with the king ; until today, it had been years since he last raised his hand on you.

“Your majesty?”

You jumped in surprise, startled by the sudden voice in your room. Snapping your head up, your tear-filled eyes met your maid’s worried ones.

“Are you alright, your majesty?”

The lump in your throat only felt heavier. That girl was blessedly unaware of the torment you had been thrown into. A wobbly lip and tear-stained cheeks wouldn’t fool anyone, yet you nodded weakly.

“Not really,” you rasped.

The frown of concern on the maid’s face only worsened, just to be cut by a gasp at the inspection of your own face. “You’re bleeding! Have you been hurt?”

Brushing your fingers against your nose once again you gulped at the sight of blood once again. Your father definitely didn’t go easy on you this time.

“Help me up,” you mumbled weakly, to which the maid obeyed promptly.

As a contrast to your tired numbness, the poor servant fussed in anxiety, helpless and worried about her mistress’ state. She led you to sit on a vanity, you could hear her from a distance talking about soothing tea or something. As she busied herself your eyes wandered to the reflecting surface in front of you. A wave of nausea and tears rises when you lock eyes with your reflection: half-disheveled hair and red eyes, cheeks red from both the slaps and the tears, a bloody nose and dread sinking into your bones. The woman in the mirror is someone you never thought you’d see one day – or again.

Suddenly, all the sadness and sorrow morphed into something else. Disgust. Fear. Anger. Rage. Everything bubbled inside of your chest, craving a way to get out. As your eyes wandered, trying to get a hold of something real to ground you, they landed on a little box covered in dust. Hidden behind bottles and jewel boxes, you hadn’t touched it for years.

The sight was like an electroshock; all of the sudden, you remembered what was inside of that box. And then all of those emotions raging inside you turned into even more: resignation.

“Alyosha?”

The maid immediately rushed to your side in worry. “Yes my lady?”

“I need you to deliver a message for me.”

The sun was starting to set when a knock echoed on your door. Given the context, the faintest sound should be startling you with the fear of dreadful news. But you knew exactly who it was, so you invited them to enter.

The sound of armored steps on the wooden floor and the locking of the door hang heavy in the air.

“You requested my presence, your majesty?”

You turned around to face the knight who had entered your room. Where you usually expected blonde curls and a loving smile, you met the dark hair and stern face of Sir Dominik Vertov.

“Indeed,” you said quietly – and way more calmly than you had thought barely a few hours before. “I thank you for coming, Sir Dominik.”

Polite and composed as ever, he only squared his shoulders. “It’s my watch, princess.”

Unlike his childhood friend Nikolaï, Dominik had been promoted to the King’s guard after his duties during the war. Nikolaï had been offered that place too ; he refused.

Your lover had admitted several times that he missed his best friend. Even if they both had their duties in the palace, they didn’t meet quite as often as they used to. But today, you were relieved that he and dominik had partied ways, for it may be your only chance now.

“I’m still thankful for your presence,” you said carefully. When you asked your maid to deliver a message to Sir Dominik, asking him to meet with you as quickly as possible and in the utmost discretion, you weren’t so sure he’d agree to it. After all, you were only the princess ; his allegiance laid with the king, not you.

Like reading your thoughts, the knight gave you a pointed look. This made your throat tighten; there was no need beating around the bush any further.

Taking a deep exhale, you unfold the words you had thought on for hours earlier.

“I have something to ask of you,” you started, careful to keep your voice as steady as you could. “This isn’t something easy, and I know there is no way for me to repay you for that, or even ask your forgiveness for.”

The knight frowned slightly at your words, both curious and perplexed. What was so terrible you could ask of him? Several answers came to his mind, some terrible, some absurds, but you soon cut off his train as thoughts as you declared:

“I need you to help me to take someone’s life.”

That definitely wasn’t something he expected. Dominik raised an intrigued eyebrow. “With all due respect princess, I’m not sure killing someone can solve any problem you might have.”

“Believe me, it is,” you insisted gravely.

“I’m not a thug for hire –”

“It’s a matter of saving Nikolaï’s life,” you cut him, a little louder. At your words, Dominik stopped his rambling and looked at you with wide eyes.

After a few seconds of the initial shock – both of the prospect of his friend being in danger and the princess calling him by his first name, he recomposed himself. “What do you mean?”

You gulped, feeling more nervous and your will faltering at every passing second. But you had to be strong, for Nikolaï.

“What I’m going to tell you can’t be known by anyone,” you said quietly. “Should you turn down your help on me, you have to at least swear to not tell a soul.”

The knight looked more and more confused, but strangely agreed to this. So with a deep inhale and a turn to the window, you dropped the bomb.

“A few months ago, Nikolaï and I got married in secret,” you confessed quietly, wrenching your hand together nervously. A soft gasp was heard from Dominik, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “We started a romantic relationship around a year ago, which no one knew about. Or so I thought until today.”

You could practically hear the churns turning in Sir Dominik’s head. He would be fast to understand the situation, surely.

“Someone found out,” he deduced out loud, and you nodded. “And you don’t want to be exposed.”

You whipped around at his underlying accusation. “This isn’t about my pride or reputation! If I had to throw everything away, my name, my titles and prices to be able to be with Nikolaï freely, I’d do it in a blink of an eye!”

This took him aback slightly. Even if he was a royal guard, Dominik never thought nicely of high-born morals. Even less to someone like Nikolaï and him. And that’s why he was now more concerned than ever.

“...who knows?” he asked after a few moments of silence. This time you faced him, and you could read the real question: who has to die?

The weight in your stomach got heavier, even if you had made your peace with this inevitability. “Someone who has the power to order his death,” you muttered.

You couldn’t say out loud that the king was the target ; who knows who could be listening?

As soon as it clicked in his head, Dominik’s previously composed face turned into a mix of horror and disgust.

“This can’t– you don’t mean – “

“It’s a heavy task I’m asking, I know,” you muttered.

“It’s not that!” the knight snapped. “You’re asking me to be accomplice of regicide, princess,” he whispered through gritted teeth, careful not to be heard.”

“I know,” you repeated in a quiet, yet steady voice. “But I also know that the king doesn’t make threats lightly.”

Dominik looked down; he was aware of that.

You turned to your vanity to retrieve the dusty little box. Once full of colors, it was now a faded crackled porcelain. But it was also what may be your salvation. Opening it, you carefully took a small velvet pouch, barely bigger than a thumb and returned to where the knight was standing. Dominik raised an eyebrow at you when you handed the pouch to him.

“What is it?”

“What might earn Nikolaï the right to live,” you answered cryptically. At the frown of incomprehension from the man, you could only offer him a sorry smile. “Pour it in my father’s wine, it’ll be a quick death. It’s the safest way of ending this.”

“For who, for you?” he snorted, throwing a disgusted look at the pouch of poison. “Having someone else killing your father because he had been mean to you and is forcing you to a divorce?”

His words felt like a slap once again, and your face darkened. “Divorce isn’t an option for the king,” you hissed, “It’s Nikolaï’s head he wants.”

Saying it out loud made you choke on your own words. Hearing the threat clearly from your father was one thing; realizing the actual danger by saying it yourself was something else. Dominik too, had his eyes widened at the statement. He thought that Nikolaï would have been imprisoned for his crimes, maybe whipped. But death? The king was cruel but he never thought he’d go to such lengths on one of the most faithful knights in the kingdom.

“Please,” you begged, your voice wavering as tears threatened to spill, “I can’t live without him. If anyone happened to Nikolaï I would never forgive myself.”

Sir Dominik didn’t respond. Stepping closer, you handed him the pouch once again, with trembling hands.

“If not for me, do it for him,” you whispered weakly. “I’m begging you to help me to save the man we both love.”

A beat passed. Then, the knight slowly reached for the pouch. As you felt it leaving your hand, it was like a weight in your heart was lifted at the same time. Sir Dominik stared at the small pouch for long seconds.

“How will this work?” he asked quietly.

You tried your best to not let out a relieved sigh. “Pour it into any liquid. It’ll be over after an hour or so.”

The knight nodded. “Any signs that might alert doctors before he…passes?”

You shook your head. “It’s supposed to be painless. Not easily noticeable either after the death, for what I’ve been told.”

Looking up at you, Dominik frowned slightly. “You were awfully well prepared for this situation, it seems.”

The new underlying accusation didn’t upset you like before. Instead, you just smiled sadly.

“It was never supposed to be for the king,” you said with a tint of sadness, to which he frowned even more. “Poison is said to be a women’s weapon but people often forget it might also be a painless way out for some of us.”

Dominik’s eyes widened at your words. Sensing his confusion, you darted your eyes away, the sting of long-gone memories coming back.

“Noble titles and gold never stopped anyone abusing their child,” you muttered bitterly. “No matter how fine your clothes and manners are, being called and treated like the utmost failure half of your life can make the strongest minds sink.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to get a grip on your trembling hands. No matter how many years had passed, you still remembered every single slap and punch your father had thrown at you behind closed doors.

Raising your head a little higher to gather courage, you turned back to face the flabbergasted knight. “Thankfully I had a wet-nurse who saw through it. After patching another wound, she blessed me with this.”

“Blessed you?” he frowned.

“What other choice did I have as a woman?” you ask sadly, and you knew by the way he looked away that he understood. “It’s only a fair thing to finally use it to end this cycle of violence.”

“At what cost?”

“Thankfully not Nikolaï’s life,” you countered quietly. “But…I’m sincerely sorry it’ll cost yours.”

Dominik nodded solemnly. He knew this; as one of the king’s guards, he was among the very few people who could approach him. Maybe this poison won’t alert anyone at first, but the suspicion of assassination would soon rise. The list of suspects would be very small, and it would be only a matter of time before Dominik would be arrested for treason if someone figured things out.

So he’ll have to flee. Abandon his rank as a king’s knight, his reputation, his life. All of this to be replaced by the brand of traitor and murderer. He was willing to do it. Of course he was. Nikolaï had saved his life during the war countless times, and above that he was his best friend, his brother. If he had to run away and live a life of fugitive for the rest of his days in order to save Nikolaï, he’d do it in a heartbeat. No matter how serious the crime could be.

“I’ll be on the road as soon as it’s done,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

You nodded slowly. The guilt that was sinking in your stomach made bile rise in your throat. “Do you…have someone who would come with you?” you asked quietly. If the man who helped you had to run, you sure would do anything to help him. But Dominik shook his head.

“We don’t have much time,” he simply said. “Nikolaï and his men are said to be back tomorrow. It’ll be done tonight.”

Again, you nodded, afraid that tears could fall if you spoke. Dominik straightened his back, and bowed.

“It’s been an honor to serve this family, princess. I shall bring with me the comfort of knowing my best friend has a woman like you by his side.”

The small smile stretching your lips at his words was a sad one. “I’ll be forever in your debt, Sir Dominik. You’re a good man.”

He offered you a sorry smile as he lifted himself up again. Both of you knew nothing would ever be the same after this night. Now bound by the terrible secret of what will come, in order to save Nikolaï.

So without a word, he made his way to the door. Just when he was about to open it, the knight stopped himself and looked back at you.

“Are you really willing to kill a king for a mere knight?”

The answer, although heavy with consequence, was immediate.

“I deeply believe that every life is equal beyond our birth and titles, Sir Dominik.”

That made him smile. “You’ll make a fine ruler one day, princess.”

You thanked him with a bow of your head. He returned it and then, quietly, slipped away from your chamber. No one heard the door click, nor did they notice a missing horse from the stables a few hours later in the dark of the night.

That night, laying in your bed, you kept your eyes open until daylight to let the last few tears of guilt run down your cheeks, thinking about the lives you has sacrificed for you love.

The crashing news of the king’s death came before Nikolaï returned to the palace.

It was a valet who discovered him, laying in his chair with eyes half closed and skin cold. Words spread fast as a doctor was hurried to the king’s side, and by the time the rumor had reached the kitchen, the monarch was confirmed dead.

A heart seizure, the royal doctor told you after he was brought to your chambers with a somber look to deliver the news. The tears and cries that escaped you hearing your father’s death were genuine, and everyone saw how deep their princess was affected. Truth was, those tears weren’t for the king; they were for Sir Dominik, the knight who had now abandoned everything to save your husband. Now the poor man was doomed to a fugitive existence, and you weren’t sure if somehow you could forgive yourself that.

The mournful look and tears did the trick anyway. Everyone was looking at you with sorry eyes for the past days, and cladded in your black clothes you played the role of the mourning princess to perfection. Two days after your father died, Nikolaï came back to the palace.

As soon as he stepped down his horse, a servant hurried to deliver him the news. It was all it took him to rush through the palace’s corridors and to your room. He bursted into your chambers unannounced, panting and face painted with worry, but it vanished as soon as he landed his eyes on you. Before you could rise up from the chair you had been reading on, your husband engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug.

Both of you clung on each other like your lives depended on it – and somehow, they were. You could even feel Nikolaï’s hand shaking in emotion. After a long, much-needed minute of embrace, he lifted his head from your neck to have a look at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked in worry, searching on your face for any sign of discomfort – apart from grief.

Instead of answering, you were staring at him, beaming. Every single detail of his handsome face, even painted with worry, sent a flood of relief through your body. He was back, he was here, he was alive. Your husband had come back to you alive and well, while you had feared the opposite for the past days. What was grief and guilt until then turned into joy and warm relief.

“I am now,” you finally whispered, still not quite believing Nikolaï was here at last.

The knight let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. Taking your hands with his, he held you close to him. “I’m sorry about your father’s passing, my love,” he said sincerely.

You could only offer him a tight smile. Nikolaï didn’t know what your father had done during your childhood. As he never lifted his hand on you for years, Sir Nikolaï had never been around to witness such tragedy. And you never wanted to share this with him; you and him deserved better than those plaguing memories.

Right now all you needed was the comfort of your husband’s arms, just to prove to yourself that everything had not been in vain.

Soon, when the time of mourning would be done, you’d publicly announce your engagement to Sir Nikolaï. Being a well-renowned and popular knight would play in your favor, the council would be glad to have him as the prince consort next to Ravka’s new queen. Soon, you both would be free to be married once again and be never afraid of loving each other again.

Soon, everytime you’d see Nikolaï’s face and smile, you’d convince yourself that it had been worth every sacrifice and lie. When the guilt would creep up on your mind during sleepless nights, you’d face them with the knowledge and conviction that you had no choice. Even if that meant losing good men or forcing fate.

Nikolaï might have been your bodyguard before becoming your husband, but as his wife you’d burn down entire cities and behead dozens of kings to keep him safe. That was a promise and a choice you’d intend to keep at any cost.

sorry it sounded better in my head *sob*

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai x reader #sir nikolaï #knight!nikolai #knight nikolai lantsov #angst #nikolai lantsov angst

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hiramaris · 8 months

Text

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 2

Chapter Summary:

And what does Haley do when things don't go her way? She sabotages. So it wasn't a surprise when Haley's mouth opened and the next words that came out were ones she never intended to say. It was a defense mechanism, a way to push people away before they could hurt her. "If it weren't for those horrendous clothes, you might actually be pretty," she blurted out, regretting it as soon as the words left her lips.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None so far? Just Haley being her usual self

Notes:

Okay, so originally in my AO3 this is meant to be a Haley x OC and I have already created a solid description for my character. However, I thought it would be much better if I changed it to a reader-insert instead tho I'll probably keep some physical descriptions that I had already inserted, so sorry about that. Also, if some of y'all have already read this in my AO3, expect some minor changes.

Gif from loriedarlin.tumblr.com

Spring 1

Haley rises with the grace of a blooming sunflower that she is. It's finally Spring!

No longer will she suffer from the icy chill that makes her toes feel like they're about to fall off, none of that ridiculously nasty snow that forces her to use that Yoba awful boots she had hidden at the deepest part of her wardrobe, and just as equally terrible gloves that hinder her from using her camera let alone her phone when she finally got that once in a blue moon occurrence of perfect lighting outside.

And most importantly; no more dry, frizzy hair.

AND.

She could finally continue her tan!

Oh, the endless possibilities that await her in this new season. So much to explore and experience. Haley is positively bursting with excitement, eager to dive into all the joys, and wonders what something new Spring has planned for her.

****

When Haley expected something new, She didn't mean new 'new' like a new person but new as in something exciting like a freshly arrived parcel from the shop she ordered online, or perhaps a new conditioner that makes her hair bounce and makes it shinier that Yoba could mistake it as the sun.

Her expectations were already at rock bottom with Pelican Town being the dullest place on earth.

But why oh why did she even bother to expect?

"The new farmer's coming today, just so you know," Emily casually mentions as she washed their dishes that morning.

Haley scrunched up her face. She had already forgotten about it. Why bring it up again?

"Oh, goody. Another reason to avoid the Townsquare today."

Emily turned to her with her typical condescending look she learned to hate. "Hay, you don't have to become BFFs with her right off the bat. Just say hello and try not to be your usual mean self. You'll thank me later."

"And I don't have to introduce myself within the day, Em." Haley crossed her arms, standing her ground. "This is no classroom where you need to acquaint the new kid on her first day."

"I know." She sighed as if she was having a conversation of repetition with a toddler and she's running out of patience. "Just be nice to her, yeah?"

Haley didn't answer. With camera tucked carefully between her hands, she left the kitchen without a word. Emily never fails to make her feel like a child being taken care of by her. Like she's in dire need of a babysitter and without her guidance, Haley would be nothing.

It's infuriating really.

No.

She wouldn't let this ruin her day.

Today was going to be a good day. Emily's incessant nagging couldn't change that. Besides, she probably wouldn't even meet the new farmer. It was already past 10, and the girl was most likely already mingling with the locals or resting in that old cottage of hers.

She can still take pictures back in Marnie's ranch. then she can hang out with Alex in his place. Go back home exactly during Emily's shift on the Saloon and then she'll have the whole house to herself while she can finally cook something edible without Emily breathing down her neck.

Yes, that would be ideal. Today is a good day.

****

Wrong.

Just as Haley stepped foot outside 2 Willow Lane, she was greeted by a tall, unfamiliar woman strolling by her house at an infuriatingly slow pace.

You held a whole map of what she assumed was the town's which was big enough to hide your whole face, and as well as hinder your vision to notice Haley on the side, much to her relief.

Are you the new girl?

All that she can tell is that you have the darkest hair she has ever seen in her whole life. It was shiny, and ridiculously long, too which kinda compliments its wavy nature.

Also, why the hell are you in a dress shirt and a tie?

Haley may be a bit far behind the books but she's sure as hell that isn't the right attire for someone who'll work on a farm.

If Haley didn't know Lewis is the mayor, she'd probably think you're the new mayor with your totally immaculate wardrobe— a dress shirt and a tie, perfectly flattened slacks, and a pair of leather shoes that probably look expensive.

Shit. Are you really the farmer? Or just a visitor?

Oh, no. Are you turning around? Oh, Yoba, she is!

Haley scrambled to her feet. Not sure if she should bolt inside the house, run to the Townsquare, or what.

With her probably last brain cell that saves her from the utter embarrassment of being caught checking out the new farmer (absolutely not, the disgrace), her own body moves on its own. She grabbed her camera and positioned herself like she was taking a photo of the least appealing subject she had ever captured in her life— Emily's cactus.

Please not now, Yoba. Not now.

She found herself praying to the deities she no longer talked to when she felt your eyes burning into her back. She had probably taken a load of mediocre photos of Emily's plant when she finally felt the farmer leaves.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she turned around and found the street empty apart from her. Only then did she notice how fast her heart was beating against her chest.

Thank Yoba for saving me from that mortifying introduction.

Why is she even nervous anyway? She didn't even see me. Even so, that was so embarrassing.

Wait, no.

Embarrassed, not nervous.

Only embarrassed, nothing else.

The word nervous and Haley doesn't fit. In fact, it should never ever be used in a single sentence. Haley doesn't get nervous, ever.

She was just caught off guard, that's all.

Next time, she'd prepare an introduction so fantastic that you would be left with the impression that Haley is too good for you— kind and never mean, but still way out of your league.

Just you wait, stranger. She thought determinedly, trying to ignore the voice at the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Emily, asking her if she was really sure it was going to be a good day.

Haley doesn't really know.

****

"Did you meet Y/n?" was Emily's first words when she arrived home from her shift.

Haley remained sprawled on the couch, flipping through the pages of her fashion magazine for this season. The struggle was real, trying to choose between the blue skirt or the pink shorts.

"Who?" she asked, her eyes still glued to the glossy pages.

"The farmer, Hay." She can feel Emily rolling her eyes at her.

"Oh," Haley feigns interest, barely lifting her gaze. "That not-so-tall, dark-haired farmer with a fashion taste of an old woman ready to retire from her corporate job?"

Emily gasped, and Haley turned to look just in time to see her scandalized look. To be fair, you don't look that bad. You also tower over Haley for a couple of inches and your fashion sense isn't the worst that she has seen in her life. Haley wouldn't be caught alive admitting that aloud though, especially not in front of Emily.

Lies are an easier language to learn after all.

"Don't tell me you just insulted her on her first day?"

"Of course not." Haley protested, magazine long forgotten. "I saw her but I didn't even talk to her nor she even tried. The doofus was so busy with her stupid map to even see me."

Looking back at the scene made her feel embarrassed, relieved, and offended at the same time.

Like how could you not notice a true beauty in front of you? Her face alone was enough to catch the attention of all the people in the area. She's not crowned flower queen for nothing yet you just walked passed her like she's just an average woman!

How dare she?

But on the side, it would have been embarrassing otherwise for Haley to be caught alive staring at the newcomer with wonder in her eyes.

Would anyone really blame her though? It was perfectly natural to size up the competition in terms of beauty.

Right?

And it's not like she noticed how broad your shoulder was or how your lean physique perfectly suited your chosen profession. Not at all, pft.

"Still, you could have said hello," Emily tries to reason with her, oblivious to the internal conflict turning on the gears of Haley's brain.

"Why should I? I'm not the new girl, aren't I?" She shrugged indifferently, turning back to her mag once again. "And what kind of lame name is Y/n, anyway?"

"Haley." There's that tone again.

"What?" she snapped.

"Don't even start. Y/n is actually nice." Emily chided softly, her eyes boring into Haley's like a disappointed mother. "You said it yourself, this isn't high school anymore. Being mean doesn't get you anywhere."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Haley bristled at the insinuation, standing up to face Emily with a fierce expression. "Are you saying I'm directionless just because you have a job, and I don't?"

"I'm saying that being kind is always the right choice," Emily's calmness only fueled the anger she felt. "And trust me, it doesn't cost you anything to be nice to someone. But being mean can cost you more than you think."

Haley remained tight-lipped, not wanting to argue with her sister anymore. Emily seemed to mistake her silence for compliance.

"I'm just trying to look out for you, okay? Sorry if I came on too strong," Emily consoled her, giving her a pat on the head. "I'm off to bed now, gotta wake up early tomorrow. Goodnight, sis."

As Emily headed off to bed, Haley was left to ponder the events of the day—

No fantastic photos in Marnie's ranch because the nasty smell of animal waste was enough to drive her back to her entry steps, and the risk of running across the new farmer is greater there so, no.

As for Alex, forget it, she didn't have the stomach to endure his stench after playing with his ball all day. Her only option was to head back home.

Emily left early which is a good thing but when Haley went to the kitchen to finally practice her baking skills, she only found out that they had no more eggs. She could have run to Pierre's to get some but she isn't really keen on doing the shopping herself. That's Emily's forte, not hers.

And now, she's been lectured by her sister like she's some rebelled teen.

What a good way to start the year, huh?

Yeah, today is not a good day.

****

Spring 2

Haley was out with her camera in Cindersap Forest just by the river. Unlike yesterday, it seems Marnie was just as bothered by the smell of her animals and decided to deep clean her ranch or whatever. So, the air was fresh and crisp, allowing Haley to breathe deeply without cringing.

The weather was ideal for taking photos— partly cloudy with a gentle breeze that carried delicate flecks of pollen through the air.

Despite her aversion to dirt and anything that possibly has germs in it, Haley loved taking pictures of nature. Behind the camera lens, she felt a profound connection to the world around her. She was in her element, lost in her own world, and nothing else mattered. Once she found the perfect subject, she was determined to capture it, no matter how dirty or injured she might become.

At this time of the year, the river looked especially magnificent in the soft light, and the falling pollen added a magical touch to the already enchanting scenery.

Just as Haley was about to snap the perfect shot, she heard a little squeak that was impossible to ignore. She turned her head to locate the source and was delighted to discover a...

Squirrel!

The little creature was the cutest thing she had ever seen, second only to the bunnies she had spotted at Marnie's ranch last year.

Haley raised her camera, ready to capture the moment forever. As if sensing her intent, the little guy let out another adorable squeak before darting off toward the deeper part of the forest where the weird old guy with the tower lived. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth it to follow the squirrel, but her impulsive nature won out in the end.

With ragged breath and hair slightly disheveled, Haley finally caught up to the squirrel. And then, as if time had stopped, she stumbled upon a sight that took her breath away.

There you are, the farmer— Y/n, she reminded herself, with your back hunched over as you fed the little guy a handful of wild walnuts that you had foraged from the forest.

No longer did you look like the poised and polished woman in your dress shirt, tie, and slicked-back hair. Instead, you wore a well-worn jumper over a faded farmer's shirt, with your hair loosely tied up in a haphazard ponytail.

You looked... different.

It was as if you belonged in this community far more than Haley ever could.

Maybe it's the clothes, or maybe it's the way the little squirrel was so comfortable in your presence.

Before she knew it, Haley's body moved on its own, and she instinctively raised her camera to capture the moment. It was a picture-perfect moment that spoke to her soul, one that was raw, genuine, and brimming with vulnerability.

For years she hadn't seen something as picturesque and just raw and so vulnerable as this.

Suddenly, you whirled on your spot with wide eyes.

Wide, so gray, very surprised gray eyes, and your just as dark eyebrows rose so high it disappeared behind a thin curtain of bangs. The little squirrel darted behind a bush in fright, startled by the sudden flash of Haley's camera.

It felt like ages before Haley's fried brain decided that maybe it was time to finally move and stop making a fool out of herself for the second time around. You are just as frozen, your hands still holding three walnuts suspended in midair.

"Uhm," you started, voice soft and hesitant. Finally standing from your place, Haley could just stare at how tall you are in this proximity. You let out a small smile. "You're the girl with the camera yesterday, right?"

Haley could only nod. The words dying on her tongue. Her brain is still short-circuiting in all ways possible.

"Oh..." Haley breathes out, her heart racing as she takes in the sight before her. "You're that new farmer girl or whatever, aren't you?"

Just how the hell did the gray get so green though? She wonders as your eyes bore into her with piqued curiosity. Was it the lighting and the green scenery that did it?

Good Yoba.

Is it possible for someone to be blessed with a nose this fine, so shapely up close? And don't even get her started on how a farmer could have such luscious, shiny hair when Haley has to spend hours just to get that shine and bounce that she likes.

What kind of mouth is that even? It's so small yet so plump. It doesn't look chapped though. You don't seem to be a lip gloss type, so you must be using chapstick regularly. That's good.

And wait, were you talking?

"Huh?" she mutters to herself, catching herself from zoning out once again. "Oh... I'm Haley." She manages to respond in what little she had caught up from your ramblings.

She only understands the word grandpa, Zuzu City, Y/n, and new.

You smiled and that's all that it took for the accumulating embarrassment to flush on Haley. It was too bright, too happy, too much and Haley couldn't handle all that.

For the first time, she's at loss for words, flustered, and was that her being nervous?

In a desperate attempt to regain control, Haley shook her head vigorously, hoping to shake off the ridiculous embarrassment that was consuming her.

And what does Haley do when things don't go her way?

She sabotages.

So, it wasn't a surprise when Haley's mouth opened and the next words that came out were ones she never intended to say. It was a defense mechanism, a way to push people away before they could hurt her.

"If it weren't for those horrendous clothes, you might actually be pretty," she blurted out, regretting it as soon as the words left her lips.

Your smile evaporated in a split second and Haley almost missed it immediately.

Almost.

"Excuse me?" You looked offended, and Haley could easily admit that she didn't like your eyes when they were darkened like this.

"Actually, never mind." She replied, steady and fast. Hoping the farmer didn't really hear her stupid comment.

Just what the hell is wrong with me anyway?

You pursed your lips and went silent for a second or two as you turned and rummaged on your rucksack which Haley hadn't noticed before. "Here," you held out a freshly picked daffodil, and Haley almost swooned. Almost.

Her lips parted in a soft gasp. "For me?"

"Hmm. It kinda looks like you."

Haley's lips curved into a small smile. "Thank you."

You hummed in acknowledgment, but you didn't return the smile. Had Haley gone too far with that comment earlier?

Haley rarely feels guilty. She always tells herself that she doesn't have anything to apologize for. Her parents didn't, so why should she?

But right now, that dreadful feeling came resurfacing. It's suffocating.

The silence is suffocating.

"It's my grandpa's." After what seemed like forever, you turned to her with a small, almost nostalgic smile. You must have noticed Haley's questioning look. "These clothes are his," you clarified. "I moved here with nothing but myself after I decided spontaneously that I can't live a life as I had in Zuzu's." You gave out a low chuckle.

Oh.

That's why you looked like that yesterday. It makes sense now. The guilt now creeps on her like a palpable living force. Emily's words came echoing at the back of her mind.

Being mean can cost you more than you think.

The apology is at the tip of her tongue yet a small part of her, the mean one, kept telling her it was just a harmless comment and that she meant nothing of it. How could she know it was your grandpa's? Or that you suffered back in your old city and you're finding a fresh start here?

Because you didn't even give her a chance to know her before you judged her. This Emily conscience of hers is really starting to scare her. But she's right, she did judge you immediately.

"I—"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so grim." There's that smile again. "Uhm, sorry to cut this short but" you stared at your watch. "I still have to tidy the farm up; you know it's not exactly the cleanest place right now. I just took a break to feed the little guy. I'll catch you later, Haley."

Haley didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.

Or even apologize.

She sighed as she watched you retreat back to your farm.

****

"How do you say sorry?" Haley asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. She never saw Emily abandon her sewing machine that fast. In record time, she sat beside Haley who chews her bottom lip, clearly troubled. She barely even touched her fruit salad and that's something.

"What did you do?" was her only question yet Haley found herself telling her sister everything.

Yep, today isn't a good day, too.

~~~~

A/n: had to delete the other one due to some minor changes again.

#stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew haley #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew fanfic

143 notes · View notes

luckybunny555 · 6 months

Text

Secret admirer

You receive a strange gift and find out the identity of your secret admirer.

Amber Freeman x GN!/Fem!Reader(no pronouns but for sapphics)

Warnings: creepy behavior, stalking, cursing, usual Ghostface behavior, a little bit of trust issues, being "attacked" but not harmed, mentions of murder and violence(no big description tho), a little suggestive in the end(as a treat ;) )

a/n: Part 2. No bad ending, again. I mentioned a song at some point and if you don't listen to it while reading ur not getting the whole experience, disappointing. also, this one's a bit scarier than part one(at least in my opinion). I'm sorry if ur not actually a scared little bitch like I am, but I made the readed very scared because yes. I didn't proof-read the end bc I used every single brain cell I have to finish this today. I might read it later but no promises.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Because you were texting Amber, you didn't worry about walking home alone. The sun was setting, but you were reaching the front door already.

Amber

I can't believe you fell for that

You

Wha-

Mindy had a straight face when

she said that

I thought she just remembered

the movie better than me

Amber

I literally made you watch it a

hundread times

how could you not remember

also, lmk when you get home

You

what did u expect

I also closed my eyes a hundread

times bc I got scared

I'm already unlocking the door

Amber

ok good

told u you'd be safe with me

;)

You felt a warm feeling in your chest, stupidly staring at her message. The smile on your face was an evident sign of how whipped you were for her. Stepping into your home, you lock the door again, not taking your eyes off your phone.

Amber

I'm throwing a party saturday

My parents will be out, they

got a wedding or smth

ur coming, right?

Your smile grew. "Mom?" you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty house. You finally looked away from your phone, scanning the space around you. The house seemed empty, which was unusual. By that time, your mom should be home. All you could hear was faint music, which your mom probably forgot to turn off before she left the house. You walked towards the kitchen, answering Amber's text.

You

ofc, I never miss ur parties

Amber

Liar

You've missed 3 of my parties

You

ok true, but it wasn't on purpose

I don't have plans this saturday

You find a note on the fridge, "Meeting w/ client @ 5pm". Right. That's where your mom was. You place your phone on the counter, opening the fridge and looking for something to eat. Your phone vibrates again, another notification from Amber

Amber

brb, I'm gonna shower

You read the text from afar, still standing in front of the refrigerator. Grabbing a few ingredients, you place them on the counter, turning off your phone screen. More attuned to your surroundings, you recognize the song playing in the background. "We Belong Together" by Ritchie Valens. You didn't remember where you heard it, though. It was just familiar. And nice to listen to while you cook.

Focused on preparing your food, you're startled by the doorbell. You look at the door with your heart already racing. It was a mundane situation, but does anything feel normal when there's a masked killer around?

Slowly, you approach the door. But instead of opening, you look through the window beside it. No one was there. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you try to brush it off. "These fucking kids," you mutter to yourself, walking back to the kitchen.

You

I'm so stupid lol

Some dumb kid just ding-dong

ditched me and I got so scared

Not so long after, you hear the doorbell ring again. You try to convince yourself it's just a stupid prank. A terrible one to play when Ghostface is a threat, but kids are like that, right? This time, you quickly approach the door, determined to catch the person, opening it even though your hands are shaking.

Still, no one is there. But you find something. There's a box on the floor, with a pink bow on top and a note. "Sorry for scaring you :(". You hesitate, but take the box and lock the door again. You put it on the counter, unsure whether or not you should open it. Could it be from that admirer? Or was it from someone else? Before opening it, you decide to get a second opinion.

You

they left a box at my door

there's a note, "sorry for scaring

you"

should I open it?

I think it's from that stalker, but

idk

You wait a few seconds, but she doesn't read your texts. Maybe you should wait longer, but you're curious. It could be great, it could be horrible. Either way, you wanted to know. Maybe your mind was just being dramatic and this was actually a genuine apology gift. You shake the box, trying to make out what it could be, but it doesn't make a lot of noise. Must be something soft and light.

With your hands slightly trembling, you open it. It takes you a split second to understand it, but once you recognize it, you bring your hand to cover your mouth, your breath catching in your throat. Your favorite stuffed animal, one from your collection, with its head cut off. Beside it, another note. "Why didn't you write me back? >:("

Your head was filled with questions, "did they break into my house?", "how did they get it?", "are they still around?". Your phone rings, snapping you out of your momentary trance. It's Amber's number. She probably read your texts and her protective instinct kicked in. Your right hand was still covering your mouth as you reached for your phone. "Amber?"

"Hello, [name]," you don't recognize the voice. It wasn't Amber's, it was a male voice. And then it hits you: Amber's phone was cloned. By Ghostface. At that realization, you gasp, feeling your heart pounding as if it's trying to escape your chest. "Did you like my gift? And my sweet letters?"

You're too shocked to answer. Frozen in place, your only movements are involuntary. The trembling of your hands, the rise and fall of your chest, the accelerated breathing and heartbeats. An uncontrollable fear takes over you. Your eyes are glued to the torn out toy in front of you.

"Will you forgive me for loving you so much that I'm willing to protect you from everything… and everyone?" They speak again, and you slowly remove your hand from your face, supporting your weight against the counter, feeling weak in the knees.

An ounce of rationality is still left in you, despite the terrifying situation you find yourself in. "Where are you?" You ask with your voice shaking, a satisfying sound for Ghostface.

"Don't worry, I'm not inside... yet," the implied threat makes you shut your eyes instinctively, wishing that everything would disappear. But it isn't the brightest idea, so you open them again and look around, trying to stay alert. "Let's play a game, I'll give you three chances to guess who I am. You have to play by the rules. No calling for help, and don't close your curtains. I need to see if you're playing fair."

The last sentence sends a shiver down your spine. They could see you. Your gaze shifts to the window, terrified to see what you'd find. But hopefully, or not, you only saw the sky turning dark. "No..." Your voice shakes again, and you try to hold back your tears of desperation, "I know better than to play games with you."

"Oh, you don't want to play?" They sound displeased, which fills you with dread. "Let's skip forward then, I'll show you who I am," they say impatiently, "Open the front door."

By that time, the tears were falling to your cheeks. Your pants and gasps were audible through the phone, and it felt like your heartbeats were too. You couldn't move, and you obviously didn't want to let them in, but maybe the choice was merely an illusion. Your cries become more evident through the phone.

"Open the damn door, [name], or I'll get in myself and I won't be as nice as I would be," the caller threatened, and you are completely taken over by fear, filling every fiber of your body.

"Please, don't hurt me," you sob, begging for mercy as you turn around, facing the door a few steps ahead of you. You slowly walk towards it, continuing to plead.

"That's not my plan, sweetheart," Ghostface replies on the phone, "as long as you do what I say."

Your hands never trembled as much as they did once they touched the doorhandle. With a deep, shaky exhale, you open the door, facing the terrifying tall frame, covered in black and hidden behind the Ghostface mask. You let out a whimper as more tears fell to your cheeks. You gasp once your eyes meet the shiny blade in their hand.

In a startling, quick move, you were trapped against the wall, with the knife pressed to your neck, and you drop your phone on the floor. Instinctively, you scream, but the gloved hand covers your mouth before you can make a sound loud enough to be heard. They close the door with their feet, the loud noise making you jump in place. You shut your eyes, not wanting to face them.

The two of you were silent for a moment, the faint music filling the eerie atmosphere along with your sobs and loud breaths, followed by Ghostface's amused chuckle. They slowly removed the hand from your mouth, allowing you to breathe more easily, and you open your eyes, scanning the view in front of you. You didn't make a sound, and you tried your best to steady your breaths as much as you could before you had a heart attack.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you if you behaved," they break the silence, and amidst the turmoil in your mind, you question their intentions and reasons. What made you different to them? Why hadn't they attacked you immediately, like they did with Tara and Vince?

Well, for one, all their love letters and gifts. Somehow, you had Ghostface in love with you, and you just realized that. Two people in one. And now, you could figure out who they actually were.

"Curious?" They ask, noticing the expression on your face, how you bit your lip, making it seem like the wheels in your mind were turning. "Go on, turn it off," the command, tapping on the voice modifier from the mask with their free hand. Your sobs had momentarily ceased, but your hands were still shaking when you hesitantly reached to press the button. You hear a low chuckle behind the mask, "recognize me now?"

It took you a moment to believe it. To make sense of it. Your eyes widened, and the look on your face was clearly of shock. Subconsciously, your lips part slightly in disbelief. How could it be her? "Amber?" you whisper, your voice faltering with hesitancy. You earn a mischevous giggle from the girl in front of you.

Her free hand reaches up, taking off her mask and throwing it on the floor, once again making you jump at the noise. There's a wicked smile imprinted on her face, staining her image in your mind. Noticing your furrowed brows, her expression changes slightly to one of pity, or remorse.

She pouts, her gaze meeting yours with a sympathetic look, "Aw, baby, I'm sorry I had to scare you," her tone changes to a sickingly sweet, an implied mocking of your position and reaction. "I just find it so cute, y'know?"

You weren't expecting that to be her motive. Deep down, it was starting to make you angry at her. But this feeling was buried by the sensation of the cold blade against your neck. And she still had a lot of explaining to do.

"Remember the first time I made you watch Stab?" She asks you, her voice laced with amusement, and a smile growing on her face. "I mean, it' wasn't even such a scary movie, but you were so terrified," she laughs, and even in that terrible moment, you love the sound.

Imperceptibly, she placed a hand on your hip, keeping you in place and maintaining her control. She looks at you with a sweet, satisfied expression. "It was so adorable. I loved how scared you got," she confessed with such a natural, charismatic demeanor, as if she hadn't planned a whole terrifying scene, just for you.

“You were clinging to me and you wanted me to protect you so bad. And I realized, I wanted that too.” With a wide smile, she chuckles mischievously. Her eyes observe you attentively, taking in every detail, every subtle movement. She loved to see your tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes. It was terrible, and she knew that, but didn't you look impossibly beautiful in that moment? "That night," she continues, her face getting closer to yours as her eyes find your parted lips, "you begged me to let you stay over and to sleep with me. It was fucking cute, seriously," her eyes meet yours again as she lets out a low chuckle. Even though you hated that moment, how scared you were, you still found the genuity in everything she was saying.

"I could barely sleep, because it felt so good to hold you close, and I really felt like I was protecting you, y’know?" Her tone escalates with passion, emphasizing the sincerity in her words. "From what? Nothing. But it was nice.”

It was infuriating to hear everything. To go through all that terror, just because... she liked it? Why would she go so far to scare you?

“But with time you got over it and you didn’t need me anymore. And I still wanted that. I wanted you to need me to protect you," she continues her monologue, a classic after villain reveals. It was really starting to feel like you were in a stupid slasher movie that she likes so much. "I needed some threat, something dangerous to scare you."

You finally find the courage to cut her off, "That's why you did all of this?" Your tone gave away how irritated you were, although still fearful, "Because you wanted me to feel like... I was in a fucking horror movie?" Your voice becomes slightly bolder, in spite of the risk. You couldn't believe her.

She feigns being offended, then exhales with a quiet chuckle. "Sweetheart, the threats were already there," she responds, her grip tightening in response to her growing intensity. "Like that Vince guy. Gosh, he was a weird fucking creep. And you were scared of him, I know that, but he could actually hurt you. And I would never let that happen," she continues to explain her twisted motives. "It couldn’t be anyone else, because I never wanted you to get hurt. I wouldn’t trust anyone else."

At that mention, you recall his murder. You were with your friends at that bar the night he was killed. You were worried about your safety. He was into Liv, and you could very well be his next target. Amber had noticed the way you held her hand in that moment, tightly with worry, but the threat was real, and she wanted to protect you. Which is exactly what she did. What better way to keep you safe than to eliminate the threat? That's how her mind worked.

The slightest hint of understanding was appearing in your expression. A hint that Amber didn't miss, ever so attentive. "Do you get it now?" she asks genuinely, as if everything she did was right. "It had to be me. Because I would never hurt you. Because other people would," her tone is so sweet and caring, you forget she is the one holding the knife to your neck.

Actually, it doesn't matter. She might be holding it, but it means nothing. The girl in front you could've killed you long ago, yet she was confessing everything she did for you, without drawing a single drop of your blood. She might as well be holding the blade against her heart, because the girl is crazy for you, quite literally. If you got hurt, by any means, it would break her. From the moment she fell for you, protecting you was a necessary act to protect herself.

With that understanding, the clarity of your realization, your anger gradually faded. Her elaborate, sick and twisted web had the purpose of protecting you. She was poisoned with love. Could you blame her for her whole performance? (You totally could)

But you didn't. For the same reason you answered your stalker's letters, and opened the gift box. For the same reason you let Amber convince you to watch Stab a thousand times, despite hating horror movies. Yes, you have terrible taste for lovers. But you love the thrill. With her, you'd have security, protection, a little bit of action and lots of excitement. It was a twisted game, but you knew in the end it was safe to play. Because she was completely, head over heels in love with you.

[...]

#scream #scream v #scream 5 #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x you #scream 5 x reader #scream x reader

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alovesongtheywrote · 2 months

Note

nightmare academia puts me through the ringer EVERY TIME and i love it

♥ Summary: in a few chapters, it's gonna get worse!! for now tho... In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, case stuff ensues and you prepare for heartbreak. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: cops. cops being terrible, cops exploiting the system, and cops shaming a woman for being a sex worker. also, violence, implied violence, and past violence.

♥ A/N: holy shit, this chapter is Very Long

♥ Word Count: 4885

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

In the weeks that followed, Spencer brought the BAU to you. Of course, not everyone could make it. Kate Callahan was off raising her children. Penelope Garcia was the target of several hitmen (whereas Frank was probably the target of a single hitman. Massive difference. Trust me.) And Derek Morgan remained at Quantico with Garcia- so you really weren’t sure what to expect. The agents you had the strongest feelings about were out of commission. The last time you’d met his team it did not uh, how would you put it? End well? So you were- justifiably- a touch guarded.

That changed. Eventually.

It started with Adam.

At that point in the investigation, local law enforcement had only shown your friend cruelty, distrust, and skepticism. Honestly? You were about to start biting people about it. (Yeah, maybe it would have gotten you arrested, but at that point, you did not care. At the very least, biting would make you feel productive.) You were well and truly prepared for Spencer’s law enforcement team to behave in a similar manner to the local cops- and to be honest, you probably should have been. Most Feds would carry that same suspicion and distrust, and if they didn’t they were probably faking it to try and get a confession.

The BAU, however, are not most Feds. For several reasons. Either way, you were well and truly prepared to maul the next person who treated your friend like garbage, fed or otherwise. There was never a need.

The BAU showed Adam basic decency. They didn’t talk down to him or dismiss him as a demeaning stereotype- and yes, that was the barest of bare minimum, but it was still something. While they regarded him with mild suspicion for the first like, two minutes, it only took the team that same two minutes to come to the conclusion that Adam was innocent. After that, the BAU was just as dedicated to clearing Adam’s name as you were.

“Adam had an incredibly emotional response when we mentioned Frank,” Hotchner explained to the local detectives, “He’s genuinely devastated by what happened. He couldn’t have done this. Even if he did attack Frank, it wouldn’t have been a clinical hit.”

“Emotions tend to make things messy- we would have seen something much more personal, with more violence and more remorse,” Rossi added.

The detectives did not listen. The detectives did not care.

“I’d say a gunshot wound is pretty messy,” one laughed.

“Yeah,” another jumped in, “Try telling the vic’ that things aren’t messy.”

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming, but you didn’t stay entirely silent. If the detectives weren’t going to give a shit on their own, then you were going to make them.

“Have you actually?” you asked, crossing your arms, “Have you spoken to the victim?”

“Eh, someone else got around to it,” the first detective asked, looking at his partner with the special kind of uncertainty that came with getting called out.

“Did you read the report, then?”

“Well, I’m on the case, aren’t I?”

“Answer the question, detective.”

In the telling silence that followed, Rossi had to turn away to hide his (failed) attempt to suppress a grin. Hotchner looked proud, despite not knowing you very well. Spencer looked like he might grab you by the waist and kiss you until you were out of breath. He didn’t, though, for lots of reasons- his boss was there, he hadn’t asked you if you’d like to be kissed, there was more serious stuff to focus on, and like… you already looked fucking pissed.

The detectives just looked embarrassed.

“I- uh. I’ve skimmed it,” the first detective stuttered out.

“Yeah, cool, not good enough,” you nabbed the case file from a nearby desk and pressed it into the officer’s hands, “Consider reading the report. You’ll find that the victim disagrees with you.”

Both detectives stared at the file as if they were seeing it for the first time- as if they were seeing a file for the first time. You sighed.

“Detective, if I may ask, how much overtime have you put in on this case?” the man in front of you blanched at your question. You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so fucking angry, “Cool. I thought so.”

“Ough,” Rossi winced with faux sympathy, “Overtime? And you haven’t even read the case file?”

“Hey, we’ve been very busy these last few weeks!”

The second officer nodded, “Just last week, we had five break-ins in the downtown area.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” you turned to leave before doubling back, “But before I go, I need to ask- do you care about the wellbeing of the break-in vics the way you care about this case? Do you care about all victims so dearly? Or do you treasure their testimony the way you “treasure” the testimony in this case?”

“What? What are you saying, what do you-”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it’s the latter.”

“What? Okay, what the hell do you know about police work-!”

“They’re an expert criminologist,” Spencer said, seething slightly.

“Dr. Reid is right. I know a thing or two about crime- and if I’m just gonna put it this way. I’ve seen the data. I’ve heard testimony from victims and offenders. I know the local and nationwide statistics for unreported crimes. You’re concerned about the victim hearing that his case isn’t messy? Look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never told a victim that their situation- their serious situation- was a waste of police time.”

The officers couldn’t look at your face, much less your eyes. You had done what you needed to do.

“You wanna solve crimes? You wanna be the hero? Then take a goddamned ethics class, read your fucking case files, care for your community, and do your fucking job.”

The detectives tried in vain to defend themselves. They were unsuccessful- especially in the face of the three FBI agents that immediately backed you up.

“Dr. (L/N) is right. The number of unreported crimes will astound you,” Rossi said, smirking like the little shit that we all know he is.

“This is especially prevalent with sexual assault cases, theft and scams, and other crimes where the victim may feel a sense of embarrassment- or crimes where the victim feels like their case won’t be taken seriously,” Spencer added in a very Spencer-like way.

“And everything you need to know about this crime is in the file. If you’d read it, you’d know that the victim is very insistent that your guy didn’t do it, and one could say that, oh, I don’t know, he’s a strong eyewitness. He is the victim and all,” Rossi continued, getting their asses.

They struggled to respond, “Well- I- We-”

“And even if you discount the eyewitness testimony, there’s still the matter of alibis and ballistics. Security cameras have placed Adam away from the community center at the time of the shooting. The ballistics aren’t a match to any weapon that Adam has ever come into contact with. Even if they were a match, he hasn’t handled a weapon since his release from prison as a condition of his parole. But if you had checked the file, you’d know that,” Hotch added, also smirking like a little shit, but with a slight edge to it- that edge, kids, is called “pissed off authority figure.”

“Hey, it-”

“It just sounds like poor police work to me,” Spencer had the biggest smirk of all- the smirk of a little shit who’s proud of his team and of his hot co-professor, “Had you actually done any of your research, you would realize that the suspect you have in custody is being held on police bias and circumstantial evidence. Any good lawyer can get this case thrown out, and then where will you be?”

His smirk turned to a full grin when you shot him a small smile of your own.

The detectives continued to sputter out responses. For once, the second one spoke, “Now, we may not be fancy FBI agents, but this precinct has a solid track record of convictions-”

“Were those convictions based on circumstance and bias?” Neither detective answered Spencer’s question. He continued, “Even if this precinct had a perfect track record, that wouldn’t make it invulnerable to mistakes- and even if it did, you would still have the responsibility of approaching each case like professionals to ensure the wellbeing of victims, suspects, and families.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you slid forward, putting a hand on Spencer’s arm, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to go speak with the victim. His name is Frank, by the way.”

And just like that, you pulled Dr. Spencer Reid away- and he did not resist in the slightest. In fact, he held the door open for you as you exited the precinct. Rossi was pretty sure he saw the kid get behind the wheel.

As the detectives scurried away with their tails between their legs, the older agent let out a long whistle.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that our young Dr. Reid is officially smitten.”

“He was smitten the last time we were here,” Hotch said, pulling another copy of the case file from seemingly nowhere- one of his many unit chief powers.

“Yeah, yeah, but this time it’s bad. Garcia’s gonna be mad that she didn’t get to see it.”

Hotch nodded, solemnly.

“Y’know, I think the three of them combined could probably take down the whole FBI.”

“You’re right,” Hotch snapped the file closed with a tiny little proud-dad-type smile, “We’re awfully lucky that they’re focused on something else at the moment.”

Missy got your guard to drop further.

Initially, she was hesitant to have the Feds drop in on Frank’s case- you both were. You were used to local law enforcement treating her like shit. You didn’t stand for it- every time a cop or lawyer so much as dared to look at her wrong, you bared your teeth like a damn dog and threatened to bite where it would hurt. Y’know. Lawsuits. Missy wasn’t exactly a pushover, either. She was one of the strongest people you knew, and you were well aware that she could hold her own. If Missy wanted to be scary, she could be fucking terrifying.

Still, it was a little exhausting to fight all these battles against people in positions of authority who were so convinced that their series of events was correct, and anyone who went against it was nothing more than a lying ex-con. Having the BAU in your pockets certainly helped with that.

“I already told you what happened. I’ll tell you a thousand more times if I have to, but the story isn’t going to change,” Missy groaned, voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

“Okay, then. We’ll go over your testimony again. A few more times, if you don’t mind,” One of the local detectives smirked, ignoring the death glare you sent her way.

“Fine. Frank was walking me to the community center. I was taking a class on resume writing. It was cloudy, not raining, but cold. We came around the side of the building when a man in a leather jacket walked around the corner.”

“And what did this man do?”

“He- he shot Frank. He tried to kill my-” she took a shaky breath. You put a hand on her arm, aiming for gentle comfort and reassurance. Missy nodded, letting you know you’d hit your target.

“Did you see his face?” The officer continued.

“No. He was wearing one of those bike helmets that block off the person’s eyes- but I swear, it wasn’t Adam. This guy was too bulky. Adam’s made of wires, he needs to eat more.”

“You seem to have a lot of affection for Adam,” the detective leaned forward, “Now, we know you’ve claimed to be in a relationship with Frank- but could you describe your relationship with Adam for us?”

“I already said it! I took a couple classes with him! He’s a friend, that’s all.”

“Mhmm. That’s all. And in your previous line of work- the one that earned you a prison sentence of twelve months and a little over minimum wage- you had a lot of ‘friends,’ yes?”

“Excuse me?” your fingers bit into the table that separated you from the cop. You had half a mind to jump over the thing and throttle the smug detective sitting before you.

“What?” Missy growled, “You think just because I used to hook I fuck all my friends now? I’ve taken a few classes with Doc (L/N), I haven’t fucked them!”

You nodded in solemn agreement. The detective shrugged this off, ignoring everything that came out of Missy’s mouth. When she spoke again, her voice rang with the faux pity of someone who held themselves leagues above Missy.

“You know, I can see why you were looking at writing up a resume- your old line of work is so degrading. You know you’re never the same, afterwards. You can never wash off the shame. You’ll always be a little broken. A little-”

“Okay, that’s enough-” you stood up, slamming your hands down on the table.

“Hey, fuck you, man-” Missy leaned forward, “Don’t tell me what hooking did to me. You don’t know me. You don’t fucking know.”

“And now you’re lashing out. Poor thing-”

“Detective Foy. A word,” Tara Lewis, a newer BAU agent who you hadn’t really had the pleasure of meeting materialized in the doorway like a perfectly timed ghost, ready to right some wrongs and keep you from committing a murder. Her request for a word was perfectly intimidating, disclosing the not-so-secret secret that the request itself was not actually a request.

“I’m sorry, Agent, I’m in the middle of an interrogation-”

“It’s not an interrogation. You’re questioning a witness. Agent Jareau will handle things from here. Now, a word?”

You and Missy watched as the detective slunk out of the room with her tail between her legs. Moments later, JJ joined you, but she didn’t bother to start a line of questioning. Instead, the three of you watched in giddy silence as Tara Lewis destroyed Detective Foy where she stood. You couldn’t hear her through the glass, but you could vaguely read the words, “You are a police officer meant to serve and protect the people in your community, and uphold the law. You should educate yourself on the law, and on what it means to serve and protect.” On her lips.

You could’ve been off on that translation, but either way, it was sick as fuck. By the time Tara was finished, you and Missy were barely holding back your laughter. You probably would’ve held it in if JJ hadn’t turned around with a pleased grin on her face.

“Ok, well, I’ve known Agent Lewis for about three minutes, and already I adore her,” you cackled.

“Oh, she’s excellent,” Missy said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Well, we certainly like her,” Jennifer grinned, clearly proud of her teammate and happy to see that someone outside the BAU had taken notice.

A few moments later, Tara re-entered the room with a tired sigh on her lips. It didn’t take her long to realize that you were all staring right at her.

“What? What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, we just think, as a group,” you looked around like you were the leader of the world’s weirdest (and maybe coolest?) group project, “That you are, objectively, excellent.”

“Yep. Not bad for a Fed.”

Again, you nodded in agreement, “I concur.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, “Thank you?”

Missy gave Tara a thumbs up. You followed her lead. Not really knowing what else to do in this situation, and figuring there was no harm in joining the madness, Tara returned the thumbs up.

“Well, like we said, we’ll take over the questioning from here,” JJ took a seat as she spoke. Tara joined her at the table.

“So, after Frank was shot, did you see where the attacker went?”

“No. I was kind of focused on my partner bleeding on the ground.”

“That’s fair- but try to think back. Did you see anything in your peripheral vision? Did you hear anything?”

Missy paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she still sounded lost in thought, “I heard a bike. It makes sense with the helmet- I think it might’ve been a Yamaha?”

“Wait, you can tell which brand a bike is by the sound?” you asked, not disbelieving Missy, but distracted by the new knowledge that a person could do such a thing.

“If you let me think about it, I could probably give you the make and model.”

“Holy shit, really?” your eyes were wide. Your expression betrayed just how bewildered and impressed you were by vehicle knowledge. It might’ve been basic knowledge, but fuck it, the author can’t drive.

“Oh, absolutely- different bikes make different sounds. Cars are similar,” Tara nodded her agreement.

“You can tell cars apart by their sounds!?”

“Yeah? Can’t you?” Missy turned to face you, slightly bemused.

“I can tell that they’re old? Or like, electric, I guess?”

“Okay, when this is all over, I’m giving you a lesson.”

“I’d like to get in on that,” Tara added.

“Excellent!” Missy smiled, “Now everyone shut up and let me think.”

The way the BAU treated Frank dragged your guard down further. They were gentle, but not dehumanizing or infantilizing. They just treated him like a human person, and you found that neat, and more importantly, Frank found that neat.

Also, the BAU laughed at Frank’s anecdotes and jokes. I will be fully honest. That was more of a relief to you, especially because a decent chunk of those anecdotes and jokes were about you murdering the shit out of Spencer Reid using nothing but your words.

It really started on that very first day, when you and Spencer had gone to visit Frank. He could see it from his hospital bed- Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, the way Spencer was very clearly trying to comfort you from some unknown upset, and that was it.

Frank said, “Wow. Those two have sure come a long way from Doc telling him to go die in a ditch.”

And JJ, who had been questioning him, choked on her coffee and wheezed out a, “What?”

And that was pretty much it. Frank explained that Spencer had pissed you off, you’d hit him with the “die in a ditch” thing, and he looked so sad that you literally forgave him the next day. (He left out the bit about the stabbing, because stabbing doesn’t just kill people, it kills moods.)

From then on, Frank was the premium source of gossip on you and Spencer. Of course, Missy got in on it, too.

When they told Rossi about the time you’d called Reid a “shit-licking asshole fed,” the agent laughed so hard that he literally couldn’t speak for a solid minute. Was he a big fan of the anti-fed talk? Not particularly. But you had gone at it with such gusto, and with such anger, that he couldn’t help but cackle.

You knew none of this, but you knew that everyone involved seemed happier after the BAU took the case. That was good enough for you.

Your guard fell because of Spencer.

Wasn’t that always the way this was going to go?

While the BAU took care of your friends, Spencer took care of you. He made sure you got home safe. He kept you in the loop about everything case-relevant. He made sure you remembered to eat, which was kind of hypocritical of him, but oh well. He offered to drive you to and from the hospital, which was a fun kind of hell, because the man obeyed every traffic law ever made, but you got to bully him for it, so it all evened out in the end. He distracted you from the nightmare you were living through by offering fun facts. He made the nightmare better just by being him.

And he was the one to get Adam out.

He didn’t announce this victory to you. He just showed up one day, at the hospital, following behind Adam as the newly freed man burst into Frank’s room.

“Frank! Hey, are you good man? I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I would’ve been, but you know how it is with cops.”

“Shit, dude,” Frank beamed, “All things considered, I’m not too bad.”

“Holy shit, Adam?” you let out a hospital-appropriate screech.

“Oh my god,” Missy stood from her place at Frank’s bedside to give him a hug. For a moment, she held him so tightly that it looked like Adam legitimately couldn’t breathe.

The moment she saw Spencer lingering in the background, she switched from one wire-shaped man to the next. Spencer hugged her back politely, and then, in an instant, she was onto you.

“You sons of bitches did it! You actually did it!”

“Did we?” you asked Spencer, lowering your voice as Missy, Frank, and Adam enjoyed their reunion.

“We did,” Spencer confirmed, stepping closer to you until you were side to side, whispering to each other to avoid disturbing your friends, “We found bank statements proving that this was a targeted hit, unrelated to Adam. We’ve only been able to find the unsub’s side so far, but it won’t take us long to find whoever contracted him.”

“Shit- that’s both really good and mildly fucking terrifying.”

“I know,” Spencer answered almost too quickly, but he covered it up just as fast, “But it means that Adam is a free man. It’s almost over, (Y/N).”

You let out a small exhale, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “Almost. Thank you, Spence. For all of this, for everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me. It wasn’t just the new evidence.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, there was this local criminology professor, maybe you’ve heard of them. They were incredibly insistent that law enforcement look deeper into the case, and because of them, the conviction vanished.”

A smile slipped onto your face as you turned to face him, “Was that a joke, Spence? You’re doing ha-ha funny jokes now?”

“I’m saying you did a good thing, here, (Y/N). Look,” he nodded towards the hospital bed, where your friends were talking, beaming, clinging to each other’s hands like they’d been shot, traumatized, and separated for months- which was an accurate summary, actually.

At your side, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, weaving your fingers between his slender ones. You felt his grip tighten, his palm pressed tightly to yours. His hands were warm.

“We did a good thing,” you whispered.

You pulled him closer by the hand. You weren’t harsh or forceful, but Spencer still stumbled into you with what can only be described as a somewhat lovestruck grin on his face.

And then his phone rang.

You watched his face fall as he answered it. His fingers drifted away from yours. You could almost hear Hotchner’s voice on the other end. The call only lasted a few moments, but it changed everything. The air in the room grew heavy. The room fell silent.

“We found the unsub. My team is confronting him now, I-” he paused.

“They want you to go with them.”

“I have to.”

A shaky breath escaped your lungs, and you were kinda pissed at it- how dare that shaky breath reveal how you actually felt? How dare it break free from your body, alerting Spencer that your world had just spun out sideways for the millionth time that week.

You were gonna square up with that fucking breath.

But first, without saying another word, you nodded towards the door. Spencer nodded back. Like that, he was gone. You watched him go. You stared at the empty doorway after he’d left. The room remained silent.

I mean, it did until it didn’t- your friends couldn’t watch that and say nothing. I don’t think anybody could.

“Holy shit, you’re just gonna let him leave without saying goodbye?” Adam asked, looking between you and the door so quickly that you were almost surprised that his head didn’t fly off.

“He’s down bad,” Frank whispered, nodding in agreement, “Go get him.”

“I- he’s gonna be back in five minutes,” you tried to reason. It didn’t work.

“He could be back never! He might die!” Missy ran forward, gripping your shoulders.

“He’s got a bulletproof vest-”

“THERE IS SO MUCH THOSE THINGS DON’T COVER!!” Missy progressed to shaking you, slightly, “Go get him! Hurry, before it’s too late!”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Tell him you’re also down bad!” Frank exclaimed, no longer whispering.

“Down bad-? What the fuck does that even mean,” you said, your voice growing quieter and quieter as you left the room and headed down the hallway.

“... Y’know, they taught me what ‘down bad’ means.”

“Same.”

As your friends continued to discuss, you were already halfway down the hallway, walking as fast as you could given the hospital setting. Spencer was nowhere to be seen and you really didn’t have time to look. You really had one choice. The elevators.

You reached them just in time to watch that lanky noodle motherfucker step inside.

Giving up on decorum, you raced through the hospital corridor, yelling out apologies at every human person you passed- fortunately there weren’t too many, so it wasn’t like you caused a massive disturbance. Most people just thought you were having your rom-com finale moment. Maybe some part of you was trying to, but honestly, you weren’t really thinking about it. You were mostly just thinking, “Shit, shit, shit, I have to get in that elevator.”

And you did! You made it! You stumbled through the doors and came to a stop in the middle of that tiny box. Spencer reached out to steady you, his expression letting you in on his amused confusion. You smiled up at him, trying not to pant- and then you came to a realization.

You had no fucking clue what the hell you were going to say.

To be fair, what the fuck is a person supposed to say in that situation? “Heyyyy, my friends think I’m in love with you, so now I’m here, wanna talk about that before you head into a dangerous situation involving a hitman and many guns?”

Or perhaps, “Hey! You’re a good person even though I keep insisting you aren’t one, so I want you to know that you’re a good person before I send you off to get murdered!”

Or maybe, “You’re hot, I’m hot, wanna spend the next thirty seconds doing terrible things to this elevator that will get us forcibly removed from this hospital?”

Or even, “Hi, you just did a really nice thing for my friends, and I really appreciate it, and even though I don’t express it, I do care about you a lot, so maybe don’t die in the next few hours. For me. Please.”

In the end, you just settled for, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Spencer replied, not taking his hands from your shoulders even though you were more than steady, “Is everything okay?”

“Okay? Yeah, yeah, everything is, um. Everything’s fine. I just-” you froze again, because seriously, what the fuck could you say right then and there? What could you say that would let him know everything you wanted him to know?

“Are you sure?” he looked at you, held you with such delicate concern. You kind of wanted to partake in elevator ruining activities with Spencer until the two of you got kicked out of the hospital together.

“Yeah- yeah! Everything’s- I’m okay, it’s just,” you raised your hand, letting it hover between the two of you for a moment before you placed it over one of his, “Come out of this alive. Make sure everyone else does, too, but… come out of this okay, okay?”

Spencer hesitated. And then he wrapped his hand around yours and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles ever so briefly.

“I will. I promise.”

The elevator bell dinged. You’d reached the parking lot. Spencer let go of your hand with a different kind of hesitation.

“I’ll see you soon,” he offered, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Spencer disappeared into the parking lot, dashing out of sight and into danger. You stood there, watching until the elevator doors slid shut and that infernal box pulled you back up again. The humming metal lights above and the clanking metal around you harmonized into the perfect soundscape for your empty mind.

Spencer was heading into danger, as he always did. You were returning to serve your community, as you always did. Spencer might not come back, and you would always remain, and you realized that when the case was over, he would go back to Quantico with the BAU, and you probably wouldn’t see him ever again.

And it broke your heart a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. A little bit, perhaps.

You were a long way from, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, go die,” indeed.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, @logicalhorror if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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